I Want A Big Hug

Last night putting James to bed, we had an absolute laugh-fest about saying that his dad was Scooby-Doo or that bear's daddy (from the book) was Scooby-Doo. (He's been obsessed with Scooby-Doo lately, though I don't know if he's ever even seen the dog. One of his friends from daycare is going to be Scooby-Doo for Halloween, so he must talk about it a lot). Wow was James ever cracking himself up. So, he was a little wound up; when I left the room (even 15 minutes later than normal) he was still settling down. As I was walking out, he whispered something. I couldn't hear, so came closer and asked him to repeat. He said, "I want I want a big hug" and stretched his arms out toward me. I had no idea my heart could grow so big.

Pumpkin Festival!

Last week-end, we joined our friends Jon (or, as both I and James call him, Marbach) and Amy, and their lovely daughter Genevieve, to a pumpkin festival. The kiddos had fun romping around the pumpkin patch (well, romping in the case of James, being propped up against pumpkins in the case of Evie). There are some photos here:

10.10.09 -- Pumpkin Festival

Where my sasuage at?

Last night we went out for dinner at a nearby sports restaurant/bar...not for the sports, but because they had cold beer, chicken wings, and a patio -- three things I was looking for on this lovely early-autumn evening. Alas, the patio was booked so we sat inside and had a pleasant meal. To our surprise, Becky and I were actually able to have a sustained conversation (the first time this has happened in a while) as James was completely mesmerized by the various large-screen TVs showing various sporting events. Now we know how to get ourselves a peaceful dinner without the need for a babysitter!

After dinner, we walked across the street to the grocery store to purchase supplies for the picnic dinner we had today with Jamie's best love Addie and her mom (and our dear friend) Auntie Jen. One of the first items we picked up was a miraculously vacuum-packed salami. James spent the next twenty minutes or so throwing the salami as far as he could down an aisle (which is pretty far; maybe he learned something from watching all that football at dinner!) and then chasing after it, picking it up again, and doing the same. Occasionally, he would throw it at a display of cereal boxes or dishwasher detergent instead of down the aisle. It would disappear behind the racks of dry goods and he would exclaim, laughing hysterically, "Where my sausage at?" The packaging never opened and the salami was delicious.