Pardon Me, Have You Seen My Head?

Among my father's talents was his ability to make wicked-scary scarecrows. I recall one Halloween party, I was perhaps 9 or 10, when he hung a dead guy from the shower head in the guest bathroom. I watched him put it up and yet I was terrified to go inside the creepy, green-lit powder room. (I'm pretty sure I didn't pee until that thing was taken down).

Every year we put up our own, far-less scary version on the front steps. He's always clad in my oldest, most well-loved USC sweatshirt. Sometimes he's battling it out with a UCLA scarecrow, crushing him under his boot (as it should be).

This year the crows are arranged to pick lovingly from the cavity that should otherwise house his head, hay pours forth from his belly and gnarled hands pat the pumpkin near his feet. Harry helped me stuff him, pretty baffled by this activity, I think. As soon as the kids are old enough I'll get them to add their own embellishments....maybe we'll make some kiddie scarecrows out of their jeans. Our own little family of zombies, right here in Rosemont.

A Boo-tiful Day

We had no idea what Harry would be for Halloween -- a parent has only so many opportunities to pick a costume before their child's desire for comic book characters kicks in. I had hoped we could manage a "Sir Topham Hatt" costume, but the idea that I had time to whip-up a top hat and tailcoat was laughable -- really, I laughed. Aloud.

So when my friend Tina shipped us over a bulging box of hand-me-downs from her son Tote, including a pair of railroad stripped overalls, well....it was clear. One stop at the State railroad museum during our trip to Sacramento to buy a hat and voila!! Harry the train engineer. Charlotte was easy. I found a super-cute pumpkin witch get-up at a children's shop. Of course she rejected the hat, like any good infant, and I had to put her little orange tutu over some black sweats to keep her warm. The kids dressed up for their Halloween debut on Sunday for Del Ray's annual Halloween parade. Only 5-THOUSAND or so participants. Our small town parade has gone mammoth, but the kids really enjoyed it (and so did we). Charlotte, I'd like to note, waved and blew kisses (!) down the parade route. We have the makings of a Tournament of Roses Parade queen on our hands.

Sushi Baby

It was right after Paul and I wed, a week after the honeymoon, that we were in my hometown of Belvedere, Calif., in a pizza shop. I have never forgotten the little boy and his mother who took a table next to ours. She opened a menu and began to plot their order. But the 5-year-old was unimpressed. "I want sushi!" he whined. I distinctly remember hoping that one day my kids would like sushi as much as I do.

On Friday night, with Paba visiting, we ordered from our local favorite, Momo Sushi, for some takeout. Harry had already eaten, if you can call what he does these days eating (my one-time linebacker has totally lost interest in food, how can that be?) and raced to the table. Surveying a large plate of nigiri, he selected a piece of rice topped with orange fish eggs. Scooping the eggs out with his finger and depositing them in his mouth he smiled wide and declared "I love it!" This is a boy who has never declared love for anything except his parents while under duress.

"She's Mine!"

Sabrina really digs Charlotte, so much so that she tells people at the park that she's her baby sister. Which is probably just fine with Harry. Yesterday the three of them canoodled in the wagon after examining what Harry has started calling "my pumpkin patch," the assortment of gourds sitting on our side porch. He is very proud.

"Say Cheese!"

Class photos have come a long way, baby. Gone are the days of slicked-down hair and cheesy backdrops. Now school photographers take kids outside and let them pose. It's like they finally figured it out -- the cuter the photos, the more mom and dad will buy (no we didn't, Harry already has a bazillion photos to his credit). And don't think for a second you only get one to choose from -- we were presented with a portfolio.

The best part, I think, was the class photo. Harry and his friend Luke, seriously, like twins in this picture. They're seated next to each other, top left.

Calling the Great Pumpkin

It all started last night when I told Harry we'd soon be visiting a pumpkin patch. He'd been roaming the house shouting "I wanna go to Halloween!" Efforts to explain that Halloween is an event and not a place, were, well, useless. But he clearly gets pumpkins and as we drove to the patch at Immanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Alexandria to fetch us a few, he explained that he'd be bringing home "the big one."

Fortunately, at the patch, which is sponsored annually by our church (click the link to see a YouTube Video about the pumpkin sale), every pumpkin looked like the big one. So, we rolled in the bags of hay, we climbed over the pumpkins like they were rocks (I'm praying no one saw this but me) and we ate a cupcake to celebrate what will be THE finest day of the year: Halloween.

We hauled home a trunk full of orange gourds to support our local charities. Even some dried corn cobs, which I had intended to hang on the front door but became an unintended snack for Charlotte.

Sometimes Less Isn't More

Today's photo is brought to you by The Washington Post's redesign. I think Charlotte's crumpling pretty much sums it up.