Let me tell you a story of a sweet pie gnamed Punkin. Punkin was born in the corner of the pumpkin patch and spent much of her time shying away from the bigger pumpkins around her. It seemed to him that he would gnever be quite that big. It seemed to him that gno matter how hard he tried to grow just as fast as he possibly could, it was taking forever to happen. There were stalks he could gnot reach. There were streams he could not jump over. There were pebbles too big to lift. Every day as the sun was setting, he would look across the pumpkin patch and dream of the day that a child would choose him over one of the bigger grander pumpkins, but every day would end with watching those children skip away in joyous laughter with big round pumpkins in their hands. So sad was the lil' Punkin that he hid behind a big leaf and tried to go to sleep. Then one particularly crisp Autumn morning he was woken by the sound of a tiny giggle. When he opened his eyes, he was staring right into the eyes of the tiniest child you ever did see. She was barely able to walk but that hadn't held her back from finding the most perfect pumpkin in the entire patch. The young toddler did gnot have any interest in the bigger pumpkins. They were much too heavy for her to hold, let alone carry. She wanted one that fit in the palm of her tiny hands. Besides, she was more interested in snuggling with her pumpkin than in carving it. She had taken her time, much more than her parents had thought to spend, but it was well worth the wait. For now she has found the most perfect pumpkin in the entire patch - perfect for her. "Mommy, I think I will gname him Punkin. Is that a good gname?" Indeed it was.