While baking, Dustin photographed our progress using my phone.

His teacher had invited students to prepare presentations about the fair and had agreed to review his completed slideshow.

“Please leave out the picture where I dropped the frosting,” I said.

He grinned.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Later, we tried on the pumpkin costumes we’d made.

Mine was round, bright orange, and slightly crooked at one shoulder.

“We look ridiculous,” I said.

“That’s why they’re so good!”

Remembering Annabelle’s criticism, I hesitated.

“Are you sure you want me wearing this?”

“Mom, we made them together.”

“Then we’re wearing them together.”

He hugged me.

“It’s my favorite thing we’ve made.”

I kissed his forehead.

Then his expression turned serious.

“Mom, why don’t you tell Annabelle to stop?”

“I’ve spoken to your dad about it, honey.”

“But she keeps doing it.”

I sat beside him.

“You’re right. I need to handle it differently.”

“Will Dad get mad?”

“That’s something your dad and I will deal with. You don’t have to fix it.”

Dustin nodded, though he still looked uncertain.

We arrived early Sunday morning for the fair.

As Dustin arranged the cupcakes, I noticed the children’s paper pumpkins had disappeared.

I discovered them in a box beneath the table.

Annabelle was adjusting her orange banner.

“Why did you put these away?”

“They made everything look cluttered.”

“The children made them, Annabelle. They’re staying.”

I hung the pumpkins along the table.

A teacher approached.

“Oh, wonderful! The children were asking where those went.”

Annabelle moved aside.