Quote of the Week

"The best way out is always through." - Robert Frost

All the babies in the house put your legs up...

I just returned from the doctor where Ben has yet another ear infection. I say another but it seems like the same one that has persisted on and on. Two weeks of amoxicillin straight into two weeks of augmentin and now a shot that will hopefully take it away. Two more weeks, another checkup and if there is still fluid, on to Dr. Richards for tubes. Joshy got his tubes at almost exactly 1 year, so it looks like little brother is following his lead. His first ear infection was at 5 weeks and he has hardly had a "well" check-up since. Once we got home, I decided to treat the little guy to a bottle. He is currently weaning to cups but he has been feeling so crummy, I wanted something of comfort for him. We sat him in his seat, bottle in hand but when we went to put on the tray, he wouldn't put down his legs. He just kept them stuck straight up - the entire time. If it's comfortable for him, works for me.

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Joshy and his imagination

Today Grandma Marcellus asked Joshy if he had a book about Santa. John had just answered no from across the room but Joshy said yes. "You do?". "Yes." "Where?". "In my backpack." He then proceeds to pull the imaginary backpack off his back, pull out the imaginary book, open it up and read. He did it without pause. His imagination amazes me. Every day he gives me special treats and meals he has made, of course all imaginary, but treasured all the same. Today it was alligators for us to hold in our pockets. When he plays he has the entire scene planned out. He instructs you. "I'll come in and you say 'I've never seen him before'". "You tell mommy that you are going to get the bad red one and then come fight". "You say abre and then I'll open the gate". All the time I see things down his pants in lieu of a holster. Just waiting to draw and attack. Imagination is what draws him and Ben together. Ben crawls around and laughs while Joshy pretends to herd a wild animal. Ben just smiles as Joshy pokes him gently with a stick and says "Get back". That is until I hear crying and "I'm sorry Ben".

How to travel by private jet

Step 1 - Find the hanger. Not as simple as one might think. Having left the instructions printed and laid out on my desk, I could remember third something and look for AAR. I pull up to the first gate with no phone and no signs of life. Building says AAR, but no hanger in sight. I backup and try again. Second time a charm. AAR on hanger. Clearly should have read between the lines of "Will say AAR". Or remembered directions...you know, either way.

Step 2 - Board plane. Far more simple than one might think. Forget security, no TSA screeners here. No id needed. No scanning of shoes. I walk towards the plane, greeted by the pilot halfway. He tells me that everyone is waiting and assuming he is joking, I laugh. Sure enough, I am the last one on board. Obviously faulty instructions to blame.

Step 3 - Find seat. Not hard when you are the last one on plane and plane consists of 14 seats. My seat was at the table. Yes, table. This is where it starts to get executive. As I search for buckle, stewardess offers to take my coat and get me something to read. Thought crossed my mind of asking for something businesslike but realized I would then have to read something businesslike and declined. Besides, my table consisted of two Vogues and a People. Persons far too like me to be impressed by my reading of the Times.

Step 4 - Survive 14 passenger plane ride to east coast. Shortly after takeoff we are presented with warm nuts. Who knew that warmth is all it takes to get the nut from the bar to the board room. Still, I'll leave warm nuts to the wealthy and keep to my low class cold and salted roots. After nuts came sandwich meal. Sandwich, ok. Scary brown stuff in black container, don't know...didn't try. I'm a complete food snob that way. At every turn there was a refreshed drink or cookie tray. For the time conscious passenger, flat screens giving the moment by moment progress of the plane. Air speed. Ground speed. Head wind. Tail wind. Distance to closest city. Distance to destination city. Air temperature outside. Did you know that it is -41 at 30,000 ft? Good to know in case one of us had been contemplating opening a window.

Step 5 - Avoid the bathroom at all costs. On the return trip, warm nuts were replaced by warm towels. Still undecided as to which felt wealthier. Although in fairness, having had one too many cokes, I was too busy weighing how long was appropriate post takeoff before sprinting to the bathroom to really take in the latter. So I make it to the bathroom using my most nonchalant I just might pee my pants walk, barge in and find a bench to my left, a sink to my right and a door straight ahead. Figuring that this must be the sitting room, we are in a private plane after all, I head for the door and start to pull. No give. Not to be deterred, I pull harder and then see and unlock the latch. Still stuck and seemingly unexecutive to have accessing the toilet this hard, me and my overextended bladder give it one last put your weight into it pull. Finally a pop and it gives. Crap, crap, crap. I've just unlocked and opened the luggage compartment. First thought. Did I just set some alarm off in the cabin? Visions of captain and stewardess breaking through bathroom door. Second thought. Freakin' heck, this door won't close. So there I stand in my executive private plane frantically trying to shut the door that I just jimmied open. Praying that the situation doesn't end with excuse me, would you mind helping me close the cargo bay door? Finally succeeding to close the door and giving up on locking the latch, I turn towards the bench, reach towards the leather cushion and pull. Right. The hidden toilet. The nemesis of passengers from the world of questionably cleaned toilets in heavily inscribed stalls, more likely to be found without working locks than any measure of hide and seek. The toilet paper, you say? Nope. That, too, was hidden in a compartment nearby. The two defining attributes of wealthy. Apparently warm and hidden.

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Step 6 - Survive landing. The home airport had been closed due to fog but we forged ahead. Executives get their way no matter the weather. Read: this is why people on small planes are the ones that die. It was those twenty minutes I was most aware of the plane size. The drop that was fast enough to raise the liquid from our glasses was when I considered at what point they tell you that you are going to die. Do they make an announcement or just figure you will realize it when you burst into a ball of flames? Still, we made it in one piece, only to have the captain come out and say that someone back there must have been good that we made it through that. Announcements are bad...go with ball of flames.

Ben turns 1

Clearly having quite a bit to catch up on, I present you with the abbreviated retelling of Ben's birthday.

Turned 1. Had cake. Not a fan. Lots of toys. Couldn't open. Joshy glad to help. Help means "open for". Ribbon cake for adults. Playtime for Ben. Respective pics.

Benjamin is our happy little boy. Not prone to the extremes of his brother, he seems to just float along. Every time he is excited, he swings his arms and feet while he squeals with joy. If you tickle his feet, he will laugh and then bite the first thing to make contact. We've had several shoulder bites that way. When he is hungry, the only way to keep him from crying is to let him watch the preparation process. His eyes never leave the food from start to finish. Willing to wait only as long as it is visible. I can hardly believe it has been a year. He was born during an ice storm, two weeks before Christmas. As I rocked him, bundled in blankets, absolutely exhausted and thinking that I will never sleep again, this day seemed so far away. Still, as he cuddles into my shoulder while I rock him and sing, there is a part of me that knows he will always be my baby, no matter the number of birthdays.

Early Morning Serenade

(Note: I couldn't get the video to upload in portrait, as it is saved, so a landscape serenade it will have to be.)

Joshy is constantly making up songs on John's guitar. I happened to have camera in hand when he started in with this one about the sun going down. Of course, once he realized he was getting attention the songs got louder and longer and contained fewer and fewer actual words and we then quickly progressed down the 5 Stages of Parent Engagement.

Stage 1 - Did you hear that? Everybody listen. My child is a prodigy.

Stage 2 - Encouragement, applause, requests for encores.

Stage 3 - Encouragement from other room, applause, requests to use inside singing voice.

Stage 4 - Aren't you hungry for breakfast?

Stage 5 - Hide the guitar...hide the guitar...

O Christmas Tree

Tonight, in the spirit of starting Christmas before the 23rd of the month, a new concept for our home, we set up the Christmas tree. Well, let me clarify, we bought and then set up the Christmas tree. For this first Christmas in our new home, I had decided that it definitely called for a new tree, one with the lights already strung. There were gorgeous trees that looked like actual pines. Those were $400.00. We went with the tree 1/4th the price and a title involving slim. In my minds eye, I was imagining how tall John was and then how much head room I remembered between him and our ceilings. After 7 years of putting up a topless tree, one would think that I would error on the side of caution but in the store, those 7 1/2 ft trees just seemed so small. So back we head with our 9 ft slim tree. We tear open the box and work out hanging wires, attach eye screws and insert sections. In with the middle and then in with the...oh. Yes, that's right, we once again have a topless tree. We didn't just overshoot by a few inches but a good half foot. The solution...find a very large tree topper and call it a day. Through the magic of bending branches up, I do think that we disguised it well, much better than if we had had a less slim tree. Our Charlie Brown tree worked in our favor. We began to hang our ornaments, red, clear and green. It is always fun to pull out the box of signed ornaments from our wedding. It is what we used as the guest book and over time, I have narrowed it down to the handful of people still in my life. Courtney, Tami, Brandy. Kathy and Don, Penny and Gary. Grandma and Pop. Granny. Carolyn Sue. Jess, Tina, Mom and Dad. Keysha, Sarah and Juls. I also kept Ed Skalla but it is mostly because he signed it as Big Fat Ed and I can't help but smile. He gave us a box of used underwear for our wedding. It was an interesting sense of humor he had. At the store we had all picked out an ornament of our choosing to add to the tree. I bought the Christmas frogs, Joshy the reindeer popsicle and John, the swan. I didn't catch it until we were checking out but for all my contesting, it was his choice. As we were hanging them up, he, of course, put said swan in a place of great prominence. After watching him turn around, I slyly went for the swan to move it towards the back of the tree when Joshy yells, Dada, Mama is trying to hide your swan. Nice. So, back it went to the front and top of our tree. Secretly, it has grown on me. Although completely unrelated to Christmas, it is related to John who is king of random things ending up in the basket. I can not count how many times I have made it to the register at the grocery store, only to find some random raw meat or exotic tofu hiding under the grapes. At the end of the day, it is Christmas as only our Christmas should be. The swan, the signed ornaments and the topless Christmas tree.

Quote of the Week

I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions. - Augusten Burroughs

The house on Crabtree

After yesterday, if you asked me if I would rather scrub floors on my hands and knees or be tied and quartered, I would undoubtedly choose scrubbing. Seriously, who would choose having their appendages ripped from their bodies? Still, I spent five hours yesterday on my hands and knees scrubbing and scraping 8 years of gunk off wood floors and I have to say, I could think of better ways to spend a day. At the same time, stepping back and looking at the gleaming floors was incredibly satisfying. The best bruises are surely results of a job well done. My parents are on the home stretch of readying Crabtree Cove to be rented. It will be strange to see the house occupied by non-family. I have lived there for 9 years cumulative, with my Granny and Aunt/Uncle there in-between. We have all laughed about the things we have done to the house in the last month that we had wanted to do while living there and never did. I always wanted a deck and stain free floors. To repaint my kitchen so that it didn’t resemble an office in Santa Fe in the 70s. In my defense, those colors looked very different in the idea booklet. Not at all like pink, peach and green. So it is, as of noon today, we will be done repairing and officially renting the home. This is a great thing for my parents but the end of a legacy. Before my parents moved in, imports from California in ’95, it was occupied by Great Aunt Gwen and before her, second or third cousin Debbie. While the pink tile was an interesting decision, she was the one who added to the house; doubling the size and outpacing the neighborhood. Over the years, the neighborhood has changed. When we first moved in, it was a neighborhood of families that has now become a street of rent houses. We used to spend summers riding lawn mower pulled wagons through the pecan trees outback. Playing basketball…no blood, no foul. Making mental notes to run to Mr. Odeburg’s storm shelter in the case of tornado. In fact, it was Mr. Odeburg that taught me to play billiards and to wave at people when you drive by. Walking down the street today you would more likely be abducted than find childhood adventure but I remember laying on the trampoline out back, unattended, thinking and watching the stars through the branches of our tree. Maybe that is part of why I fell in love with the tree at the house we bought in May. I am thankful to be done but would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sad. It is the home where I had my first date, first car, first prom (Sorry…Jr/Sr banquet…dancing is evil). It is where Tina cut up paper into homemade confetti every New Year and at least one and sometimes two sisters ended up in my bed each night. It is where my Pop made the garlic shrimp pasta and William played Amazing Grace on violin. It is where John asked my dad for permission to date. It is where my Christmas tree, too tall for the room, was set up topless each year. It is where I brought two babies and where I decided to buy my first home. For every morning that I hated that house while I was freezing, hovering over the sole floor heater, I will always be thankful for it. I hope it brings the same wealth of memories and experiences to its new occupants. I can only imagine that it will.

A matter of opinion

I hate the word "why".

He Crawls

About a month ago, Ben became mobile. This, of course, was unfortunate in that the first day he discovered his freedom, I was laying on the couch, throwing up everything in my stomach and then some. So, as I lay there, making some barely audible groan, I notice out of the corner of my eye that Ben is not where I set him. Great. Fast forward four weeks and we have a Ben proof house. Gates for the kitchen. Bottom two shelves cleared. Not out of forethought but out of, "He just pulled your cup off the shelf!!!"

With the natural progression of things, the crawl has progressed to pulling up. So now the examination of the vent can run right into the exploration of blinds.

Even with every tipped over cup and found bobby pin on floor, I still forget that everything on the floor will come in contact with two 11 month old hands. So was it with the trash bag full of mail I was sorting though today. I walk away for but a second and come back to find this.

Which soon becomes this...

He loves to pull up my using my knees. Usually he gives me love but today he had another goal in mind.

I had forgotten the crawling stage, mostly because Joshy never really went through it. He went from Army crawl to walking and only then at 15 months. I have spent two years since then dropping my bobby pins wherever I well please. Still, I know to enjoy each stage because crawling becomes climbing and and climbing becomes jumping from. And I have had three years of learning just how fearless little boys can be.

Staring Game

Lounging around the living room this evening, Joshy and John decided to play the "staring game" (i.e. the game where you stare at each other and the first one to laugh loses). Tonight Joshy picked up a new tactic. I had to share because I died laughing. Who knew panting was the secret shoe in for the win?

Conversation I was having at 5:00 this morning...

(whispered) Mama? *tap tap tap*

What Joshua?

If you get too close to a polar bear they will bite you?

Yes.

Why?

Because they are scared of you.

If I see a polar bear I have to run into mama's house?

You need to stay with mama so she can keep you safe.

If you get too close in the forest, the bear will bite you?

If a bear is attacking you in the forest, lay down on your stomach and pretend you are sleeping.

If the bear bites you on your head you lay down on your tummy like this?

Yes, but before he bites you on the head.

If you get too close they will bite you because they are scared?

Yes.

Oh... Is it time to get up?

No. Go back to bed until it is light outside.

Polar bears live in the snow?

Go to bed.

Till it is morning time?

Yes.

I like being cold.

Bed. Now.

Polar bears will bite you if you get close?

Yes. Just lay down here next to mama.

Mama?

What.

I'm thirsty.

(Oh to have Saturdays mean sleeping in again...)

The boys at the park

Oklahoma City Thunder

For my Dad's birthday we decided to attend our first Oklahoma City Thunder game. Ross was able to buy discount tickets through his work. So, for $1.00 less per ticket, we got prime seats in the furthest most row of the furthest most section. Ben was quickly en route to bed time and would just begin to settle down when the crowd would erupt, jolting him awake in our arms. Perhaps an evening game was not the best idea. I have never understood why the trainers have to do all the stretching of players on the court. Why would you want some dude massaging your butt muscles in front of 3000 people? Why not just run around missing 50% of your layups like the rest of your team. By half time and the ping pong piano player (actually more entertaining than it sounds), Joshy, too, had worn down. He was laying down on Jessi's shoulder, one eye closed and on eye making sure no one else took a bite of his pretzel. You know he has had his fill when he asks to go home. They had the volume in the arena ridiculously loud and as we loaded into the car, the last thing Joshy said was that he never wanted to hear that sound again. I won't hold him to it because he might change his mind when sitting in seats that aren't parallel with the ceiling speakers. Per those left behind, it was a nail biter or whatever sports phrase applies that I don't care enough to learn but we pulled through with the win. Go team.

An exercise in skill, obsession and way too much free time...

Amelia Island - Sunrise, Service, Skeet and Surf...and Airport Edition

Waking up Monday morning, the clock may have said 6:00 but my body definitely still felt 5:00. The time difference was only an hour but of all the hours, the one between 5 and 6 can be the difference between good morning and get out of my face until I have found caffeine. Half way through attempting to reconcile hair that dried over night betwixt pillow and head, I hear LeAnn yell "sunrise" and throw open the drapes. Having spent so few mornings waking up ocean side, it had not even dawned on me that we were missing the sun rising against the Atlantic.

Breakfast was held in the heated seaside tent, however, as we moved into the conference hours, we found ourselves in the air conditioned rooms meant to keep speakers in suit jackets from risking dehydration by way of sweat. Minus one suit jacket, I was feeling a little less than temperate and so, during a break, I set out to find some cider. I had seen a pot of it when we checked in and therefore headed towards the front desk. The cider was not where I had remembered seeing it and so we started to glance around, wondering if I had imagined said cider in my mind. Seeing us, a concierge asked if we needed help. We mention that we are looking for cider and without hesitation he says, "I will find you some" and takes off in a hurried walk. It may just be my lack of experience with all things money, but usually when I say "I am looking for the cider" the response involves annoyed glances and "I don't know"s. Never once has someone taken off in a sprint to attend to my request. LeAnn and I just looked at each other and almost in unison stated that this SO beats Holiday Inn Express.

BOA put on an excellent conference with sessions very much in keeping with the information I had hoped to reap from the two day trip. Monday night, they had the makings of a seaside event for the conference dinner. There was steak and shrimp, chicken and oysters, salad and gumbo and on and on. As part of the on and on, they had fried green tomatoes. Seen the movie? Yes. Ate the tomato? No. I grabbed a few, thinking that I would give it a try and have to say, they were amazing. I have no idea how to make them or where you would even go in Oklahoma to eat them, but I have to tell you that if I thought the tomatoes would have kept, they would have been missing one platter that the Ritz would have just had to throw in with incidentals.

Speaking of incidentals. As with most hotels, to use their wireless service they charge a fee. I paid for 24 hours thinking that I would just not sign on once it expired. That night I had no issues, nor any next morning. However, that afternoon, I could not, for the life of me, get the computer to connect. Being the self-sufficient computer user my husband has groomed me to be, I worked through troubleshooting 101. Reboot the machine. Release and renew. Reboot the router. Finally I give up and call the business center who sends a technician my way after I make it clear that there is nothing they could suggest that I in all my wisdom have not already done. When the technician arrives, I quickly get him in the loop as well, surely impressing him with my technological expertise. He looks at it, walks over, flips on the hall light and says "Give it a shot". Up the internet loads. Right.

Along with the food, they had set up a skeet shooting area for us to shoot laser skeet. The guns were real but equipped with lasers in the stead of bullets and little "ping" noises in the place of kick. Five would step up to shoot at a time and as per usual would have two shots per pull. Having never held a shotgun before, I was not expecting much when LeAnn decided that she wanted to jump in and play. The good news: I apparently rock at fake skeet. The bad news: LeAnn had safety issues and spent most of the game hearing "Number 1, do you have your safety on?" It is understandably hard to hit the skeet when your gun doesn't fire and her grand total came in at an impressive 1. On the up side, she did tie the number 2 gun who had no safety issues at all. The crowd behind jokingly called me Sarah Palin as my score climbed. Apparently they were not aware of a game called "Duck Hunt" I owned as a child. And they say video games are a bad influence. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to impress a bunch of bankers relishing the open bar.

Tuesday morning I was definitely feeling the shirley temples and inordinate amount of smores from the night before. Not needing to hear the session on global capabilities, LeAnn and I decided to instead spend at least an hour on the beach before leaving later that day. How can you be that close to the Atlantic and not at least get your feet wet? I had stopped on the walkway to take some pictures and she had wandered ahead when I hear her making some commotion and pointing at the ground. I hurry over and find this:

From the look on her face I don't think she was certain whether it was dead or alive. Most certainly dead. The thought crossed my mind about taking it with me, but some how I imagined it a hard sell to the TSA screener. Zoologist or no, that tail could be used as a weapon. Your one-legged brother will just have to be disappointed. When put on the spot, I can never think of the good lies (see: headless hamster).

We did manage to get our feet wet and through underestimation of wave strength, a bit of our jeans too. Nothing says comfort like wet jeans on a cold, windy day. The wind was strong and had just enough bite to keep you aware of its presence but not enough that you wish it to leave. The sky was clear so the sun warmed your cheek as the sand crept up between your toes. In the summer I am not much of a beach person. Have never been big on watching people roast in the sun and have a rather strong fear of sea creatures eating my feet. However, on a day like that day, I could have thought of nothing better than to be on that beach.

We left Tuesday afternoon to jet home in time for work Wednesday. Walking into the Jacksonville airport, I needed to run to the bathroom before boarding the plane. I would just like to say how hard I smiled at the sight of a bathroom, no longer only for the ideal woman, but for women of all shapes and sizes. Even those of us who've had two kids and even more s'mores.

It was hard to leave the Ritz life behind. After only two days, I had already grown accustomed to the toilet phones and beckon call service. I had told my crew, in jest, that it would ultimately be okay as I was sure they would be willing to run at get me cider upon my whim and fancy. In fact, I suggested that Patrick just go ahead and change his title to Laura's Personal Concierge, a task Roxanna stated she would jump right on. Having forgotten about the conversation, I was sitting at my desk Wednesday morning, barely awake when I smell a cup of cider over my shoulder. Sure enough it was Patrick, with Roxanna and others hanging in the door. I am so thankful to be surrounded by people who make me laugh.

Amelia Island - Bathroom Edition

Today Leann and I flew into Jacksonville, FL for a purchase card conference hosted by Bank of America. Going in, I knew that we were staying at the Ritz Carleton and had in my mind that those were usually nice hotels. Of course, using nice as a descriptor for hotels with doors on the inside and more tourists than truckers. Flying here, we were blessed with seats on the smallest plane I have had the pleasure of flying. In fact, on the first leg, we were overweight and had to sit and wait until someone was willing to give up their seat. So there we sat, all trying to not make eye contact with the bearer of bad news in the bright red sweater. All wishing we had packed one less pair of shoes. Or at least those of us who pack for two days as though they are staying for a week. No need to name names. *cough* Leann *cough* One person less and two hours later, we made it into the Jacksonville airport where the Bank of America representative was waiting. Waiting, in fact, with a sign. I have secretly always wanted to be the person someone was waiting for with a sign. If it had said my name, I very well may have crapped by pants. As we pull into the hotel, I start to think that nice could be an understatement. As we fumbled into the room we started the ritual of checking out the essentials. Bathroom. Check. Toiletries in bathroom. Check. Phone in toilet. Check. Okay, so we may be out of our league. The bathroom is just beautiful, even the hair dryer gets it own bag. No wall installation here.

The toiletries themselves include your standard soap and shampoo but throw in toothbrush, shaving kit, nail file, polish remover, swabs, etc, etc. Oh but it gets better...

ROBES!!

After we were done playing with the amenities, we settled down to the sound of the Amazing Race. All of a sudden, we hear a knock at the door. We exchange glances, neither expecting a visitor and Leann gets up to peak outside. As she opens the door, I hear the voice asking if we would like turn down service. Turn down service. Caught off guard, we declined, however, I now wonder what exactly turn down service involves. Do you just stand there and watch while they pull back the bed? Is that when you know you've made it? You no longer have pull back blankets on your bed? Is it more than that? Do they tuck you in? What I do know is that even if you don't let them in, you still get the chocolates. Which seems a nice alternative to the strangers making me snug as a bug in a rug. The rich are weird.

Halloween 2008

This was the first official Halloween to go Trick or Treating. I can not remember exactly what we did last year, but I know that it did not involve walking around our old neighborhood where you had a higher chance of scoring a drug deal than candy. So around 7:00, we suited up the boys, grabbed our pumpkins and headed out. Before they left I wanted to get some pictures of them in their costumes. I had set Ben down on the sidewalk to snap some shots but couldn't find the golf bag. I finally spotted it with Joshy who was counting the clubs in the bag. What a smart ninja. Oh and yes, I realize that the ninja is minus one face mask but Joshy has never been a fan of things that cover up this face. So, he is just a ninja of the knight variety. All he cared about were the weapons anyway. Well, and apparently how many clubs there were in the bag.

I really had no need to get the clubs from Joshy because Ben had no interest in playing around with them. He was much more interested in leaves. I give you Ben and the Leaf in three acts.

Act 1: Acquire the leaf

Act 2: Insert the leaf

Act 3: Did he just put it all the way in his mouth? Crap.

We never were able to get it out. Score one for the roughage.

Tina wore her Witch costume, complete with ghost and fan to keep it inflated. Jess asked Joshy, "What is aunt B?". She is a witch. "Right now or all the time?". All the time. Way to set up the slam.

As I was going through Jessi's pictures at the end of the night, I came across the following. The ninja killing the mouse. Wonder how the daycare will respond when he tries to recreate the shot at school. Um, I think your child is trying to kill the other children. Oh, it's okay, he's just pretending.

Our new neighborhood is the perfect place to Trick or Treat. There are so many young families with children Joshy's age. We were part of many trekking up and down the streets. Plus, I got to hand out candy to real children in all types of costume. Not just teenagers with basketball jerseys and pillow cases. Once we ran out of candy, we all just sat around and watched The Great Pumpkin while Joshy tried to con his way into more candy. It was a good night.