I'm splashing you!

Despite some reluctance to wear his costume to humor me for demonstrating that it fit or for the benefit of his father, who wasn't able to attend either trick or treating or the school parade, Q not only wore his costume, but enjoyed pretending he could splash with his trunk. He was a bit hit. And everyone asked if I made the costume. No. It was a gift to me so that I didn't spend days or weeks attempting to create an elephant costume only to have the neighbors ask what he was. And, for the record, elephant was his own idea.



Noodle was her usual happy go lucky self, oblivious of her costume. She got into carrying her own bag and refused to ride in the wagon more than twice and melted down hard once (she wanted to see Jake, her favorite dog on the street, whose owners were politely containing him).

Q really enjoyed handing candy out to the trick or treaters and was allowed to stay up till 8:30 to help. Noodle was unsuccessfully launched into bedtime and had to be rediapered, brought downstairs to help with trick or treaters, and sung to before attempting the second launching. She was out cold by the time I brought up the exhausted Q.

Miraculously, I think I kept the candy consumption down to 2 'fun' size portions for Q and one for Noodle. If only I had the same discipline for myself.

Long Day in New London

On I-95 this evening, Q repeated his newest trick- identifying the word 'GAS' on a highway sign. I was thrilled. He did it again. I praised him highly. Then he tried it with a sign without 'GAS' on it. Can't blame him for trying.

Noodle, who just said the word, "go" for the first time yesterday, launched into a clear two word phrase for me: "dog go" to refer to the book, "Go dog go" which she wanted me to read. Speaking of thrilled. I immediately rewarded that request. Earlier in the morning she had even come out with animal noises for a rooster and a duck, which I'd never heard before. She did not want to repeat the feat at bedtime. Animal noises are hard. You need a good night's sleep to do them justice.

Noodle, Q and I drove up to New London so J could show off the kids, oh, and to furnish him with his contact lenses. But because of the odd schedules of little kids, we ended up arriving about 3 hours before it was actually possible to see J. So we walked with the stroller to check out the docks, the train station, a coffee shop for dinner makings (ie. muffins, a little stale). Then, after discovering that the train station bathrooms were only open to those with train tickets, we rushed back to the car, and drove to Waterford where there is a Target, complete with flushing toilets. We returned to the theatre, and discovered we still were half an hour early. So we walked to the train station again, this time with Noodle on foot- several long blocks. She attempted to throw a tantrum over having to hold my hand, then, weirdly, conceded the point. On the way back, she started a happy little burbly song, which she revived for J's benefit as she climbed the stairs in the theatre. The words consist of 'da-DA-da-DA-da-DA-da'. I think someone misses her daddy...

Both kids simply stood still and stared in amazement at the bagpiper from the play. It is an impressive noise. We stayed to watch J and a handful of actors rehearse a fight scene involving a lot of swords and dying. I kept whispering that it was pretend, but I'm not sure what Q would've thought. He was delighted by getting to check out the sword J had been using.

When we finally got home, Q tells me, "When the trick-or-treaters come," (dramatic pause), "we'll tell them we have a fire engine."

Indian Summer

One of Grandma Sue's friends offered us the use of their beach this week. We've had spectacular weather for October, cool nights followed by deliciously warm days. We lucked out again today with weather was in the low 70s, so Grandma Sue and I took advantage of the offer to bring the kids to the beach for a picnic.





The beach is Simply Gorgeous. Clean, small and lined by rocks and train tracks. An excellent diversion for a four year old.


We saw the "acela" approximately four times. There is something very suspicious about the frequency. Not to mention that the speed wasn't what you'd imagine for a train that only stops at major train hubs.

One edge of the cove is lined with pretty little summer cottages that made me regret my misspent youth. I don't even like the beach.

As my father would say, I could get used to it.

The kids had an absolute blast. Noodle played chicken with the waves, giggling hysterically when she got caught.



Q buried his cherry picker in the sand. Sue and I spent about 20 minutes looking for it as we herded the kids back and forth on the beach. Quinn asked us where it was and we replied, "We think you buried it, but we don't know where." He chirps, "Here it is," and pulls it out of the sand right by the lawn chairs.



There were scavenging seagulls, of course. I'd forgotten how ambitious they get. One attempted to drag away Q's metal lunch box, filled with trucks. Q was thrilled to be directed to chase the gulls- laughing as he scampered after the unintimidated birds.

At 3:30 we got on the road, a shell shocked vision of sticky, exhaustion strapped in the back seat.

Belly BUTT!on

Noodle was obsessed with bellybuttons today. Yesterday, or sometime recently, I was teasing her about her belly button, and she was repeating the word she knows "butt" (she uses it for real buttons) and then after I showed her mine, she kept coming back for more.

Today I paid for it. "BUTT!" she demands at the playground. The temperature is getting cold. "BUTT!" My tummy isn't fat, but, well, when I pull up my shirt, and my bellybutton is kind of in a roll of chub over my jeans. "BUTT!" She is finally satisfied. Or will be once I lower my tummy so she can stick her finger in it.

Two minutes later, I have my shirt tucked back in and am struggling to regain my dignity. "BUT!" Noodle toddles back over to me. I attempt to distract her. Looking around, I see another child who is not wearing too many layers to prevent baring stomach skin.

"Look! There's Joanna! Ask to see her belly button."

Noodle obligingly lurches over to Joanna. "BUTT!"

Joanna looks confused. Joanna is two. I explain, "She wants to see your bellybutton."

"BUTT!"

Joanna is very obliging, actually, and concedes to pulling up her soccer t-shirt to show off her belly button.

Noodle pounces, trying to stick her finger in the button.

Joanna drops the shirt and bolts up the playscape. There are advantages to being even a slightly older toddler.

Noodle returns to me. "BUTT!"

I now have a practical reason to wear cropped shirts.