Halloween and More

These are not their Halloween costumes; the boys just like to dress up ALL THE TIME.

The pipsqueak, upon trying some potatoes for dinner that were baked in butter, milk, salt, and pepper: "Not bad. Not bad, mama. Yummy!" I think he ate about half of the potatoes in the casserole dish!


The pipsqueak has decided that he will no longer be called by his baby nickname. If you call him that, he shakes his head vigorously and says, "I'm not. No." Then he states his own name, using his given name (but never his middle name -- try to add that and you'll get, "No, no. I'm not.") I am surprised he is rejecting his baby nickname. I don't know why it would even occur to him to say that's not his name.

But his doing so is consistent with his sense of independence and individuality. Unlike big brother, little brother is fiercely independent. He will not let you remove his shoes or his coat; he says, "I do it myself." He'll stagger out the front door and down the cement steps on his own, resisting my efforts to hold his hand: "Myself. Myself." It makes me cringe to watch him try to regain his balance on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps. He actually has very good balance, but he insists on handling the steps by alternating feet, rather than climbing down each step completely before tackling the next one. It's terrifying to watch. Of course, only big brother has met disaster on the porch -- he managed to get smacked by the door, which knocked him head first off the porch and into the shrubberies. When we looked for him, we saw only his little kicking feet in the bushes. The poor squeaker. The pipsqueak looks precarious, but he doesn't actually fall very often.

Yesterday, he fussed when his papa left for work: "With you! With you!" When his papa asked in a stern voice, "Are you fussing at me??" the pipsqueak hastily replied, "I'm not angry. I'm irritated. Just irritated!" I am not sure what he thinks the distinction is.

Both boys had an excellent Halloween. The squeaker was a mummy, with an elaborate costume created by his papa.























The pipsqueak was a giraffe, and he seemed pretty pleased about it.























I love the sweet innocence of his face in the one picture, with the skeleton emerging from the grave in the background!

Since our own neighborhood is too rural for trick-or-treating, we went to a party at the house of some long-time friends with a daughter who is the pipsqueak's age. Attendance at the party was pretty light, perhaps because many other invited guests opted instead to trick-or-treat in their own areas. But our party hosts arranged a little hayride -- an ATV with a small cart attached, lined with bales of hay -- that about 10 or 12 people could ride in together. A week before the party, our friends had warned neighbors that they might actually have some trick-or-treaters, so they were mostly prepared when the little cart pulled up.

We were a little late to the party, so we missed the first hayride. But we went on the second, and my boys each collected some candy at the 5 or so houses the group visited. When my sister came to the party with her kids later in the evening, the kids went one more time, this time in the darkness. Riding through the dark, misty fields had my sister pretty anxious, but her kids had a great time. I was amused at my sister's trepidation (the fields didn't scare me, but the rural road we drove on briefly during the second hayride did!), and at the pipsqueak's helpful observations throughout: "There are monsters hiding in the trees, mama" and "Look at the spooky stuff!"

After the fun Halloween events of the weekend, the squeaker is back to school this week. He seems to have a little group of friends on the bus, which is good. But he also has this little girl that he talks about at school.

"Do you play with her?" I asked.

"No, not really. We don't really talk or play. We just love each other."

"You do? What do you mean? How do you love each other if you don't talk or play?"

"Well," he said slowly, "she smiles at me every day when I get to school. It makes me feel welcome. It warms my heart." The squeaker always finds some little girl to warm up to. I like that he feels so much love despite being so little.