Cupcake Wars

Well, Fans.  The day was bookended by tantrums. Julie took the bambini to Yum!, as promised, for dinner.  All was going reasonably well until the end of the meal when Julie purchased a cupcake to share.  Joe wanted his own and you know, Fans, Julie can appreciate that, but it's not the call she made tonight and it's certainly not a call she was going to go back on in the wake of what unfolded.  By the time we left, everyone--everyone--who was dining at Yum! around about 6:15pm knew that Joe wanted his own because he kept screaming, "I WANT MY OWN!" He started not long after Julie gave Clara a third of the cupcake, and kept it up as Julie got a to-go container for the rest of it; wiped Clara down after she'd finished her third; got Clara into her coat, hat, and mittens; dragged--dragged--Joe out to the car (sans coat, hat, and mittens); and lifted him, thrashing, into the car.  Julie had parked in the street along the windows so these last moments were like an encore to the main performance the other Yum! patrons had just witnessed inside the restaurant.  The main performance probably lasted less than three minutes because Julie made the decision to leave pretty quickly after Joe's first screamed "I WANT MY OWN!", and it was solidified when he pounded the table hard enough that the screams were punctuated by the utensils clattering, but of course, it felt like an eternity.  Julie considered stuffing Clara's cupcake covered hands into her coat sleeves, but that would have just mandated a load of laundry tonight.  About the only lucky break we caught was that we happened to be at the table that is right next to the door, so Joe didn't have to be dragged screaming through the restaurant, between tables and other diners.

He screamed the whole way home, pounding on the windows of the car.  He kept it up into the house and all through bath time.  He screamed about not having his coat on, having to remove his own shoes, needing more food ("PUH-LEASE!  I. NEED. FOOD!"), not getting to take a bath, for Daddy, and for Teddy (Bear), but always he came back around to "I WANT MY OWN!"

By the time Clara was in her pajamas and ready to read books, Joe had quieted down enough to hear Julie when she said that if could pack it in and get his pajamas on, he could read books with Clara and Mommy, all of which he did.  After Clara went to bed, Julie had to break the news that we wouldn't be going back to Yum! until at least after Christmas, and probably not any other restaurants, because Joe had made such poor choices tonight.  Joe just took it.  He looked awful, probably felt awful, and frankly, Julie felt awful, too.  The only silver lining she can find is that she didn't lose her temper or raise her voice.

The rest of the cupcake didn't taste good at all.

This Morning

Good morning, Fans!  We write at this early hour to bring you breaking news.  Something else Julie makes sure to do when Ted is traveling is to get herself up early, so that she can get herself together before the bambini wake up.  This morning, she wandered downstairs at bit before 5:15am, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard panting in the living room.  It was Our Hero, who had woken up even earlier, made his way in to the living room, turned on the lights on the Christmas tree and was enjoying some early morning solitude, pretending to be an excited puppy.  After snuggling for a bit, Julie went about her business, and Joe, his.  (Joe's business in the later half of the top half of the five o'clock hour was making a copy on the printer, which he recently learned how to do and is now all the rage.)  At 5:36am, Julie was getting dressed, and Clara appeared beside her.  She got herself busy with some office supplies, too, namely, the scissors.  She is not yet so handy with the scissors, so she had them pointed toward her face.  Julie tried to tell Clara that scissors cannot ever, ever be pointed toward one's face, but you know, you can't tell Birdie how it is.  So Julie took the scissors away and the morning's first fit began.  But Julie felt she was on solid ground so she went about her business which, conveniently, was getting the bambini's clothes out--downstairs.

Joe followed her, but when he saw his clothes being taken out of his cupboard, he said in a tremulous voice, "But I want it to be a pajama day."  Julie explained that today was picture day and so Ms. Leah hadn't told us that today was a pajama day.  The morning's second--and simultaneous!--fit began.  Good times, Fans.  Good.  Times.  It was not yet even six o'clock.

Eventually, everyone calmed down.  Clara tried the scissors again, yogurt was eaten, Berenice was let out, and both kids are dressed for picture day.  Joe asked they could have their picture in front of the Christmas tree.  It's sort of a toss up for the best of the bunch.  So many contenders.  We're calling it a two-way tie for first place.

Never Would Forget

We also, as we've written here, like to dance in the car.  Of late, Taylor Swift's new album has been on a pretty much continuous loop.  On the way home from My Burger tonight, the penultimate song of the album, Starlight, was on, and Julie was swinging her head along, when she glanced into the review mirror, and saw Clara's little head, in her winter hat, bopping along, too.  Of course it was, Brigade, because Clara's whole air--her vibe--is like driving on a summer day, warm enough to roll the windows down, and one of your favorite songs comes on the radio, and you crank it up as you think "Yes!"

Oh my, what a marvelous tune
It was the best night, never would forget how we moved
The whole place was dressed to the nines, and we were dancing, dancing
Like we're made of starlight, starlight

Taylor Swift
from Starlight

Shout Out to Daddy

Ted left on a business trip tonight, and when Ted is out of town, Julie likes to take the bambini out for dinner.  That way, she doesn't have to cook dinner while someone asks if she can draw Lightening McQueen, or someone else stands in front of the refrigerator rearranging the magnets, or Berenice paces around waiting for something magical to happen like the backdoor and the gate being left open.  Also, there are no dishes.  Julie has revealed this strategy to some other parents who think she is sort of crazy--a four-year-old and a two-year-old?  In a restaurant?  No other adult reinforcements?  But Joe and Clara are better behaved in a restaurant than they are the bathtub, and taking them out to dinner means one is better prepared to face them in the bath which can often end in one bellowing, "SHAPE UP!" and frankly, sometimes it's Joe or Clara imitating Julie or Ted and then laughing uproariously.  Clearly, the bambini are winning on the bath front.

So we headed to My Burger (or, Your Burger, as Clara calls it) for dinner.  It was touch a go for a moment as Julie was placing their order.  She'd left the bambini at a table wriggling out of their coats.  Clara got out of her chair for help, and by the time she got back, Joe had moved into her chair.  Julie asked Joe to get out of Clara's chair, which he informed Julie wasn't fair.  Julie ignored him which led him to mutter that "it wasn't fair" over and over.  That's when she said that Joe had two choices: we could leave and he could keep grumbling about "it" not being fair in the car on the way home and while Julie made eggs for dinner or, he could pack it up and eat a cheeseburger.  He decided to eat a cheeseburger.  Thank goodness because besides the aforementioned strategy, Julie has been all about onion rings lately and she was really looking forward to them.

When we eat out, there's often music playing and sometimes, we dance in our seats to it.  That's what we were doing tonight when Julie began shooting this video, but it was right about then that the bambini again noticed the almost full moon so instead of dancing, you get some interesting color commentary from the Professor on the moon, as well as some whining, and french fry eating.  It's a slice of life feature!  See if you can discern where we are going to dinner tomorrow night!

Oh Come All Ye Faithful, and Cheetahs, and Rabbits, and Ducks, and Snake Charmers. . .

Fans, those of you who have been with us a long time (at least a year anyway), know that if the Christmas tree is up, then the creche is not long behind.  The creche (or "crate," as Joe was calling it for a while) was reassembled today with now usual areas recreated: angel choir, the jungle, the desert, the meadow, the farm, and the woodland area, this last again replete with a blue construction paper lake.  (The tee pee remains on its shores; the Snake Charmer is naturally to be found in the desert.)  Bethlehem is somewhere in the middle.  All of these areas are necessary because we--clearly--have a more expansive definition of creche here at Raleigh House, and we welcome two new members to the gang each season.  One is selected by Our Hero, and the other by Our Birdie.  Putting up the creche of course offers an opportunity to talk about The True Meaning of Christmas, so Ted asked Joe a few questions about the creche, and Christmas.  When Joe came up empty, Ted reminded him that the creche was to do with someone's birthday and asked if Joe remembered whose.  Joe's response: "Uncle Scott."

Fans, we will not keep you in suspense.  This holiday season we welcome with wonder to the creche the cheetah selected by Joe, and the rabbit, chosen by Clara.  The baby Jesus never had it so good--for real.

A New Day

Today was a big day at Raleigh House, Fans: Joe woke up, and didn't cry and wail for Mommy and Daddy because he didn't know if it was "wake-up time."  Instead, he got out of bed; told Clara she didn't need to be crying, she could get up, too; went into the living room; turned on the lights on the Christmas tree; turned on the lamp; and was all set to settle into who knows what, when Julie dashed downstairs because she heard a crash.  The crash turned out to be Clara's new baby doll's head hitting the floor.

Off and on for a while now, we have been talking with Joe about not crying when he wakes up because he thinks he can't get up, and that he is, in fact, old enough to get himself up, patter on out of his room, and make his way into the living room to play quietly.  We have had corollary discussions about reserving crying for when we are hurt, or sad, or particularly scared, for example.  It's tricky--we are trying to teach Joe and Clara to think for themselves, but they are four and two, so there is still necessarily a lot of bright line rule issuance which might be making murky the think for yourself lesson.  So time will tell if this morning's events become commonplace, but Joe seemed to like the taste he had of owning his own power.  The face he had on when Julie found him and Clara looked a little something like this one (which was taken shortly before Joe had pretty much nothing but cranberry sauce--"raspberry sauce" as he keeps calling it--for his Thanksgiving Day dinner--it is really good, and also made of cranberries).

Backward Birdie

A few weeks ago at the Little Gym, Teacher Katie showed Clara and her fellow Beasts how to walk backward.  Birdie quickly had this whole walking backward thing nailed, and it is clear that she can't understand why we don't all motor around backward.  Before she struts her backward stuff, Birdie will look at you all, "I'm gonna rock it like MJ here with a moonwalk.  Why don't you watch and take some notes."  On Thanksgiving Day morning, when we went to the Mall of America for the Walk Against Hunger, Birdie did a few stretches backward, charming many of her fellow walkers.  But that was actually nothing compared to what she did this morning.

Two of Joe and Clara's three great great aunts were able to come over this morning for brunch.  We decided to let Joe and Clara eat at their little white table in the living room.  Julie stepped over one of the chairs on her way to the dining room with some place mats and napkins, brought her foot down too quickly, and smacked her toes pretty good on the top of that chair.  She had just tossed the place mats and napkins on the table and was in the kitchen on her way to the basement for something else, when Clara padded in and said "I going give you a hug.  You o-kay?"  Oh Brigade.  You can't get much sweeter, can you?  Julie said she was o-kay, that is was just a little owie.  Clara said, "You need Band-Aid?"  She and Joe will use any excuse--or none at all--to get some medical bling, so no doubt, she was mystified when Julie declined the Band-Aid.

That's when she looked and Julie, and smiling--and never looking away--slowly started walking backward down the hallway until she was in front of the bathroom, at which point she turned, and exited, backward, into the living room.  It was pretty smooth.

Here is a clip of Clara jumping, walking back ward, and being silly.  She does all of this while gripping chop sticks in her hand.  Julie was worried the whole time she was filming Birdie, and in fact, the clip ends with Clara falling after jumping in--where else?!--the bathroom.  Notice how Birdie decides that the bathroom is the room for jumping.  What is it about acting like monkeys in the smallest room of the house that is wall to wall--literally--hard surfaces?

The Day Before We Put Up the Christmas Tree

Well, Fans, another Thanksgiving (or as we might as well think of it around here, The Day Before We Put Up the Christmas Tree) has come and gone.  Joe and Clara ate cranberry sauce, pickles, olives, and other assorted crudite, while the rest of us also had your more traditional Thanksgiving feast fare.  It was all but a prelude to the following day on which we put up the Christmas tree.

We began early with the first orders of business: running the vacuum around the living room and moving the toy cubbies to the porch.  Then, Julie and the bambini decamped to the couch to watch as Ted brought the tree into the living room and unfurled it.  After the tree was unfurled, of course, it was time to trim it.  Until the bambini were told they had two choices (build a fort upstairs or in their room or build a fort upstairs or in their room), the process was a study in well-meant but crazy-making exuberance.  Picture Birdie grabbing a small crystal train and waving it about while saying, "Choo choo!  Choo choo!"  Picture Joe flinging himself onto the couch in excitement only to kick the tree each time he did it.  Do you have the picture, Fans?

Grandma Connie tried to control the simmering chaos by asking the bambini to hand her ornaments of various colors but you know it, too, Fans: hanging the ornaments is where it's at, and so this whole surrendering of the ornaments to someone else to hang was only going to last for so long.  Birdie merrily strung ornament after ornament on a string of lights which is exactly what Joe did last year when he and Clara helped before Ted executed an extraction to an indoor playground.  One can, of course, simply reposition ornaments, but our elves were working their festive magic too quickly to keep others' spirits bright, so the Fort Diversion of 2012 was hatched.

By lunchtime, the bambini had built a fort and Julie and Grandma Connie had the tree fairly well along.  After arriving back downstairs, the elves were instantly back in the tree trimming game.  Julie decreed that everyone had to take turns, even Grandma Connie.  Taking turns saw us through to lunch time, after which Joe was going swimming in Grandma Connie and Grandpa Charles' hotel's pool while Clara napped.  It turns out that one of the handful of things better than trimming a Christmas tree is swimming in your grandparents' hotel's pool.

As soon as Clara was down for her nap, and Joe had been carted off to swim, Grandma Connie and Julie stepped it up, and finished up.  Fans, they even had time to sit and admire their handiwork and chat with glasses of wine.  It's not Christmas yet, but it felt like a Christmas miracle.

Cleaning Brigade

Excitement just barely contained.

Grandma Connie tries to pass on tree trimming know-how: interior ornaments are hung first.

Birdie goes her own way: interior shminterior.

Have goggles, will swim.

This birdie ornament?  This birdie ornaments wants to fly!  Fly high!

Note feet well under the tree.  What could wrong here?

Turkeys

'Tis the season to make turkeys from one's handprint, which is just what Our Hero has been doing a lot of lately.  Yesterday, Julie arrived home to find him in the midst of cutting one out (How wackadoodles is it that the kid has enough dexterity now to cut around turkey finger-feathers?!).  He was nearly done which meant he was soon on to affixing it to the wall with tape.  Recently, Julie showed him how you can roll the tape over on itself, sticky side out so one can stick it to the back of something, hiding the tape when one affixes the item to the wall (or whatever).  Joe had given it a go, but the tape was peaking out and Julie sensed--by his wild pounding of it with the flat of his hand--that he might be getting frustrated.  (Julie would not recognize herself in the impulse to act this way.  At all.)  Help was offered and refused.  A minute or two later, Joe was standing back in the same spot looking a little bewildered and crushed.  Julie saw out of the corner of her eye that the turkey wasn't stuck to the door anymore and in an instant, even before Joe began wailing, she knew what had happened: he'd thrown the whole turkey away in a fit of frustration.  (Again, Julie wouldn't know a thing about it.)

Oh, Fans.  He was so sad!  All the more so because he seemed to sense he was the instrument of his own undoing!  You can just hear the interior monologue though, can't you?  "Why.  Won't.  You.  Just.  STICK.  TO.  THE.  WALL?????  Like I want you to!  Like you know you are supposed to!  You Turkey you!!!!!  ARGH!!!!!"  [Sounds of crumpling paper and slamming garbage drawers.]

They say you shouldn't let the turkeys get you down, but it happens.  We've all been there.  Sometimes you gotta pitch it in the garbage, have a good irrational cry about it, and try again.

Happy Thanksgiving, Fans.

Of Eyebrow Safety and Mines

Longtime Fans know that one of our favorite past times here at Raleigh House is cataloging the verbal gymnastics in which Joe and Clara engage as they learn how to express everything in their little minds and hearts with the language they have at the same time as they learn that language.  So we wanted to capture here that this past weekend, before heading out the door to swimming, Joe came out with the pronouncement that he would be putting on his sunglasses so his eyebrows didn't get burned off.  It was some powerful sun that morning, Fans.

Clara, for her part, the other night, was looking over Julie's shoulder as she paged through the latest American Girl catalog (which begins arriving the moment the American Girl Mother Ship discovers that a girl has been born unto the household--which is to say instantly), and bending over the table to press her cheek to a doll*, stated, "That's mines."  The singular possessive acquiring additional emphasis with what amounts to a phonetic possessive.  To the extent there is a conscious rationale (which of course there isn't) it might be, "Yours, his, and hers all have that s on the end, so what's up with that unadorned mine?  Let's slap an s on there and makes it mines all mines."

*We do not make this up Brigade.  She lay her cheek lovingly against the picture of the doll in the catalog.  The American Girl folks know the heart of this American Girl and, no doubt, American girls the land over.

Kitchen Enchantments

In our kitchen, we have a rolling butcher block with open shelves in which we keep, from top to bottom, root vegetables and measuring cups; oven mitts, aprons, and dish towels; cutting boards and, as it happens, a pizza lifter which will figure prominently in a moment.  Now and again, the bambini like to treat this open shelving unit as an annex of the cupcake kitchen.  Pretend food may be intermingled with the real food.  Oven mitts and aprons may be donned.  Almost certainly dish towels will be unfurled like so many rugs in a market place--indeed, they are often called rugs as they are unfurled.  Cutting boards will be ferried from the kitchen to the living room.

Rug Man with his wares

The other night, the bambini's imaginations led them to the cupcake kitchen annex.  Joe claimed his usual turkey apron, while Clara put on not one, but two aprons.  Thus outfitted, they set about unpacking the annex.  Clara was most industrious, until she happened upon the pizza lifter.  The pizza lifter resides beneath al of the cutting boards in the very bottom bin.  Usually, it is not reached because of the distraction presented by other delights.  (So many "rugs" to unfurl and really, so little time.)  For whatever reason, Monday night was different.  Clara was enchanted with the pizza lifter or, more accurately, her reflection, which she could make appear and disappear, of course, depending on how she held the pizza lifter.  "I up!  I down!"

Well what have we here?!  A magic mirror?!

Hello, Gorgeous.

Look everyone!

There you are again, Gorgeous!

Light, Love, and Peace

Tonight after the Birds had read books, Clara turned to Julie and said, "Peace."  At first, Julie wasn't sure if she'd heard Clara right--because Birdie was holding up four fingers.  A tutorial on this bit of 60s counterculture followed and Birdie's got it, sort of.  She at least now know that one throws up two fingers in a V when tossing out a "peace."  Actually getting her fingers in that position is another story.

One never has to worry about sit-ins or protests after announcing to Clara that her bedtime has arrived.  She hops right down from wherever books were read, and makes the rounds: hugs Joe, hugs Ted, hugs Berenice.  Her hugs are often leans with her cheek pressed up against the hugee, if you will.  Tonight, she also hugged the cupcake kitchen.  She wished the bucket that has taken up residence by the cupcake kitchen goodnight, as well as the cupcakes which right now happen to be in the bucket, and "Nicey's toy."  Our Birdie has always had a lot of light and love in her heart.

Peace out.

A Boy And His Kite

During quiet time today Joe and Ted were doing some fall cleanup and putting up Christmas lights on the house.  While working on the lights Joe discovered some packing material and decided it would be perfect for making a kite.  He was so sure that he pleaded to go back inside to make his kite.  Joe got himself into his chair, requested four pieces of paper and some tape, and put Ted to work taping his paper into a big rectangle.  He was then able to use the packing material as the kite string (also secured properly by Ted), and decorate it with his markers.  Once outside with his kite he stood there and asked Ted how to get it "up by the clouds" and wondered if it wasn't windy enough.  Longtime readers may remember his big kite flying adventure from the summer, so this was a bit of a letdown.  But no sooner had Ted told him he could run around the yard and the kite would fly behind him then he was off running like a fool happy as can be.

Look Out Jennifers

Beals, Grey. . . All the Jennifers that danced in 80s teen classics.

(Warm) Saturday at the Park

On our way in the wagon

It was unseasonably warm here yesterday in Minnesota--like go-to-the-park-without-your-coat-in-November warm.  And that is exactly what we did, along with the rest of our neighborhood.  Here are Julie, Joe, and Clara playing the monster game in which the plays run around the the baseball diamond, the monster trying to catch the others and tickling them when he or she does.

Clara with after-nap ponies

Ready, Set. . .

Yesterday morning, we took Joe to his state-mandated kindergarten screening.  He had his vision and hearing checked and then he played a bunch of games with Nurse Chris: built things with blocks, told her about various objects she presented, did some analogies, matched some things, drew some things, and hopped around.  We learned he favor his dominant right foot for one-footed hopping, and that stick figure people do not necessarily have arms, but they do have (prominent) belly buttons.  He was still congested from this cold which may have impacted the results of his hearing screen so we have to take him back to repeat it.  But Fans, the Great State of Minnesota, represented by Nurse Chris, say he's ready to go to kindergarten.

Our Hero tries to take over in the driver's seat before heading into the screening.

Election Day 2012

Tuesday, of course, was Election Day.  In a close race, Superman and Belle ran against Batman and Cinderella at the St. Louis Park KinderCare.  We don't know which dynamic duo won, but we can report that the votes of our dynamic duo cancelled each other out: Clara voted for "Belle" (and Superman), and Joe voted for Batman and Cinderella.

But of course, there were other races going on, too.  Joe was just a handful of months old of course when we last voted for President.  He went with us then, so it seemed only right that he, and now Clara, should accompany us to cast our ballots this year, too.  We arrived very nearly after the polls opened and waited in line for perhaps 20 minutes.  The highlight of that was when Joe asked Ted in a fairly loud voice why Ted was going to vote for the candidate for whom Ted voted--only Joe used the man's name.  Civics lessons in order, clearly.

So the line was not so terribly long, but it was long enough that by the time we got our ballots, Clara was starting to see what trouble she could stir up.  We were playing man-to-man defense, and Julie's man was Clara.  First play by Clara, the old hang-on-the-arm-and-swing-in-a-wide-arc-down-there-on-the-ground trick!  Next up, the old saying-the-opposite-of-what-is-actually-desired trick!  So it was that Julie came to scoop Clara up only to have her wail she wanted to hold hands while grabbing hold of the voting booth and giving it a good shake.  (Don't mind us over here tearing the place up while you try to do your civic duty!)  That's when Julie knelt down and delivered a fast and furiously whispered admonition to Clara who decided to hold Julie's hand long enough for Julie to finish voting and make sure she hadn't voted Batman and Cinderella to lead the nation for the next four years.

On the way out, a friendly St. Louis Parkian offered to take our picture and then hurried off in the rain with a "Great tradition!"  It is, isn't it, Fans?  By the time Election Day arrives it feels like the candidates have been running forever, the air seems thin, and it's all rather exhausting. But then, on the actual day, there's something so inspiring and hopeful about heading off to the polls and waiting in line with your neighbors to cast your vote for the future, especially when it's standing in line next to you, holding your hand.

Sweet Sunday Morning

Saturday mornings are for cleaning, but Sunday mornings are for snuggling and pancake making.  This past Sunday morning, Joe was up and at 'em so he and Ted headed to the kitchen to make pancakes while Julie and Clara stayed in Clara little bed.  We have written here before of Clara's love of a snuggle and Brigade, it just never gets old and we can only hope she never ever outgrows it.  There will come a day, of course, when her little hand is not so little, but for now, it is just the right size for reaching up and touching Julie's cheek while she says, "Mama."  And somehow, Julie's hand is just the right size for cupping Clara's cheek while she says, "Clara."  So the Birds touched each other cheeks and softly called each others names back and forth like a couple of looney birds before Clara flipped over and pressed her back into Julie's tummy.  That's when the sing along started: Baa Baa Black Sheep (huge right now); Itsy Bitsy Spider, ABC (now, it's usually ABC instead of ABCD, and she knows most all of it!; sometimes she skips TUV), Wheels On the Bus, and everyone's patriotic favorite: This Land Is Your Land.

A morning at the end of October.  Birdie will always ensconce herself in the middle of a snuggle pile.  No shame in her game.  We had fallen back yet so the room was very dark, and the flash was very bright.

Little Bird, Big Help

Fans!  Monday morning found the Birds' felled by colds and by Tuesday, Joe had been taken out, too.  So we have a lot of catching up to do here!  We should first go back to last Saturday morning before the onslaught of sneezing and coughing and the grumpiness that comes in their wake.  Joe's swimming lesson are at the very bright and early hour of 8am, while Clara's Little Gym class is at the slightly more reasonable hour of 9am.  The Birds have fallen into a pattern of speed cleaning at least the downstairs part of the house after the boys leave.  Clara is keen to help.  She excels at picking up, and always likes to try her hand at cleaning the toilet.  (She is fond of lifting the wand with the disposable head out of the toilet as she crows, "I did it! I did it!", as blue-tinged toilet bowl water drips all over the floor.)  When it's time to vacuum, she follows Julie all about with the little yellow vacuum.*

Birdie putting the Halloween candy collected in the jack-o-lanterns and the leftover candy from our bowl into the one big bowl that sometimes sits on the dining room table.

Now Birdie's latest is helping to fold the laundry, or, more accurately, roll the laundry.  Julie rolls her pajama pants up and Clara, having watched this action carefully, has the notion that all things are rolled: her underwear, her pajama pants, you name it.  One has to follow along surreptitiously behind her, folding.  But, it is also worth noting that she matches socks like nobody's business.

Birdie taking laundry to put away in the bambini's room.  She dropped it on the floor when she arrived there.

*The little yellow vacuum was first Joe's.  We got it on a day or weekend when he had been sick for a terribly long stretch (this was before he had the tubes put in) and we all needed something new to liven up the atmosphere.  Joe picked the vacuum cleaner, and Julie can still see him in her mind's eye,  clutching it across his lap in the front of the Target cart.

Adventures in Dining Out

Ted flew to Dallas for work early Thursday morning and returned late Friday evening.  When Ted is out of town, Julie does one of two things for dinner with the bambini: makes breakfast for all (since Ted doesn't like breakfast for dinner), or goes out to a restaurant (no dishes!).  This trip, she decided to do back-to-back restaurants.

Thursday, she took the bambini to Yum!  Yum! (which really does punctuate its name) menus macaroni and cheese and has cupcakes so as you might imagine, Fans, the bambini love it and Joe would for sure eat every meal there if he could.  This trip did not include cupcakes because of the aforementioned siren song of Halloween candy.  That is how glorious that song is: it beats out Yum! cupcakes.  Some of the conversation revolved around Julie telling Joe to pipe down and use his inside voice because Our Hero was repeatedly throwing his arms up like he was crossing a finish line and saying--loudly--"Yum!"  He eventually looked at Julie like she was a total dope and informed her that there was a "shouty thing" after the word so "we got to say it loud."  Indeed.

Friday, Julie took the bambini to My Burger, or "Your Burger," as Clara calls it.  My Burger does not punctuate its title (bummer!), but it does have booths (yippee!).  The booths are some distance from the ordering counter but within sight of it, so Julie left the bambini at the booth with the announcement that if she saw anyone walking on the seat or using it like a trampoline, we would leave right then and there.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man in the corner chuckle.  Turns out, Julie should have also said no standing on the seat, because there was plenty of that "to lock at the car," as Joe informed her.  The man in the corner chuckled some more.  He wasn't eating and appeared to just be taking in the My Burger tableau.   Dinner proceeded apace and as the bambini were struggling into their coats and gear, Clara insisted on turning her hat such that one of the ear flaps was covering her face.  Julie pointed out that the hat was askew and tried to turn it at which point Clara said "NO!" That's when the Man in the Corner chuckled again and said, "That's what I call boss."  Indeed.

Halloween 2012

Halloween 2012: was it really only Wednesday?  We began the festivities going to a pre-game potluck at a neighbor's house.  Joe knew that the potluck was really just something that had to be suffered before the main event and although he wasn't surly, he did ask Clara repeatedly if she was done with her dinner (a classic "Are you done?  How about now?  Done?  Are you done?" line of questioning) and when she finally said "I done," he looked at Julie all it's-go-time, and made a beeline for Ted to say what amounted to the same.  So we were in the first wave of trick-or-treaters, beginning at dusk and ding-donging and knocking our way along as night fell.

We pulled the bambini over to Graham and Connor's old block and then the bambini took it by storm on foot.  They were told by almost every person that they were cute, and Fans, they really were in the semi-matching monkey (Curious and usual) costumes.  Most people understood that Julie and Ted were dressed as bananas.

Lots of folks wanted to select candy for the bamabini and put it in their jack-o-lantern pails.  This tactic usually created amusing confusion with Joe and Clara holding their jack-o-lanterns back all get-your-own, while simultaneously reaching forward toward the all what-gives?!  Most confusing was a neighbor who had presorted his candy into leftover butter tubs.  The bambini were stymied, but knew to protect their jack-o-lanterns at all costs.  But they did well getting up to the doors, ringing the doorbells (a Joe job this year), saying trick-or-treat and also thank you (Clara also usually embellished her "tank you" with a happy Halloween).  Once we'd wrapped up that block, we visited the celebrity-demi-goddess babysitters' house where we saw one of them.  Then, we headed for home where the bambini were stripped of their costumes into the pajamas that were already underneath, and allowed to eat three pieces of candy before heading off to bed.

Now, we live with the siren song of the jack-o-lantern pails and the candy they contain.  Thursday morning, they asked if they could have candy and Julie, as you might expect, said no--no candy for, or after, breakfast.  At some point, she was down in the basement starting a load of laundry.  As she came back up the steps, she realized it was awfully quiet.  So she picked up the pace and discovered Clara in the living room with two lollipops stuck in her mouth at the same time, grinning like a jack-o-lantern.