Pumpkin Day, Pumpkin Night

Halloween could be the most anticipated day of the year in our house.  Basile began his “how much longer” peppering sometime in December of last year.  When the day finally arrived, he was very composed.  Everyone called the house to see if he was bouncing off the walls, but nay, he was very relaxed.

The day went as normal as could be expected.  I didn’t finish the laundry or clean the kitchen.  Instead, I did things like roast pumpkins, shell hundreds of stupid pumpkin seeds and threaten to keep children from trick-or-treating.  The boys kept to their normal routine which included trashing the living room.  I warned Bas that we would not be leaving the house until the floor was mess free.  He then rushed back into the living room to pick up the Legos.

To keep in the Halloween spirit, he completed the task as a zombie.

I then turned my attention to the baking pumpkins we bought at the pumpkin patch.  Personally I am not the biggest fan of pumpkin flavored stuff.  The men, however, love it.  I’ve been hit up for pumpkin pie more times this fall than I care to count.

I grabbed one of the little pumpkins and went over to the sink.  Basile came running up and asked what I was doing.  When I told him I was going to roast some pumpkins he flipped.  “You can’t use my pumpkin!”  He thought I was going to put his jack-o-lantern in the oven.  I explained that I was using the smaller pumpkins we bought.  He gave me a very distrustful look and went back into the living room.

The hardest thing about making pumpkin puree is cutting the blasted pumpkin.  You have to cut the pumpkin in half laterally.

Not so bad right?  Well, it oozes.  You are then using a large sharp knife to cut a slippery unwieldy squash, while children fight on the floor to up the difficulty / danger.

While the pumpkins roasted and the children wrestled, I washed the pumpkin’s seeds.  There was lots of non-happy words flying around as I struggled to clean the little buggers and keep them from sliding down the garbage disposal.  I got as much of the pumpkin guts off as I could, then dried them.  I added a little olive oil to a pan and roasted the suckers.

It was nearing time for Deon to come home and I had nothing cooked so I decided to continue on with my pumpkin dealings.  I sat at the dining room card table and proceeded to shell the stupid little seeds.  I cursed myself for being so thorough and not letting more seeds fall down the drain.  The seeds are slightly rubbery and after the first hundred or so my fingers began to hurt.  I could have had help if I wanted.

Both boys flittered around me offering help and asking for samples.  I finished some time after Deon came home.

Basile’s patience had reached its limit.  His father was home and he was ready to go.  I continued on undeterred.  I pulled my gushy pumpkins from the oven and started setting up to puree.  Deon tried to distract Basile, who had turned from a lifeless zombie into a raging Wolverine, by calling Maw and Paw on Skype.

I scraped my pumpkin innards into the food processor, pureed them, put them in a strainer over a bowl and put it all in the fridge.  All done!

We headed to Chick-fil-A for dinner complete with free ice cream for the boys.  Alton fell asleep in the car but he was revived by the ice cream.  We then went to the outdoor mall with Basile grumbling all the way.  We explained that there would be trick-or-treating and he calmed down.  We must have come late because most places were already out of candy so we headed off into the night.

We went to our old neighborhood, since our new one didn’t seem to be in the Halloween spirit.  We hit up several houses.  The boys filled their pumpkins.  Alton munched on suckers the entire night.

When he lost interest in walking to the houses himself, Deon would carry him and I would hold out his bucket.  I felt so ridiculous.  It looked like the candy was really for me.  Well it kind of is.  Isn’t it?  Finally, cold and loaded up with sweets, we headed home.

Deon bathed the boys while I picked up the mess then made pumpkin brittle.

Deon threw the boys into their room where they bounced off the walls and ceiling until finally crashing.  The hubby and I settled onto the couch to watch last year’s Halloween episode of “Raising Hope.”  About half-way through, Alton snuck down the stairs and cuddled up to me.  We didn’t get to do much cuddling so I let him stay.  He fell asleep in my arms.  It was the perfect ending to my pumpkin night.  I got to cuddle with one of my pumpkins.

Shower Scene

I have a confession to make, I hate washing my hair.  I have really long hair.  It takes forever to dry.  For whatever reason, I’m not sure myself, I hate using a blow dryer.  To get around this, I usually wash my hair early in the day and let it air dry.  In the summer this is no big deal.  I can do this at any time.  Today, however, it is going to get cold.  I do realize that I still live in the south, but for me, these more northern temps go against my very nature.  I digress.  My hatred for hair washing has become amplified since becoming a stay-at-home mom.  I now have the terrifying task of leaving my children alone.  For 20 minutes.  Alone.

I decided that if I was going to do this I would have to do it early.  I set the kids up in the living room with Legos.  I was pretty sure this would keep them occupied, since Legos were confiscated last week and this would be their long-awaited return.  I told Basile were I was going and went over all the rules with him.  I held my breath and ascended the stairs.

I had not even completed my first round of lathering when Basile came in.  In Basile fashion he was breathing heavy and looking exasperated.  “Mom!  Popa,” he hund his head down and heaved in breathes, for dramatic effect of course.

“Popa what?”, I said, wondering if I would be running with a soapy head to extract Pope from the top of the bookcase or something.

“Popa turned over the whole box of Legos.”

Obviously, we need to discuss what constitutes an emergencies.  I sent him away.  “It’s fine.  We can clean it up later.”

I returned to my shower and began hearing noises in the bedroom.  Not good.  Noises with no talking means Alton is in there.  Alton is a digger.  I became terror-stricken.  What if he has gotten into makeup again?  Or worse!

I hurriedly tried to finish rinsing.  I turned off the water and he came in.  He smiled as he watched me squeegee the glass door before opening it.  I hadn’t noticed it at first, but he was holding a tube of lip balm which now had a deep indention from trying to smash the cap back on.  His face, the area above his top lip to be exact, was shining from all the layers of wax on it.  He smiled and held the tube out.  “Here mommy, you put it on.”   He was digging in my nightstand.  My mind raced as I tried to think of what else he could have found.  I looked past him into the room.  Nothing looked disturbed.

We went downstairs together.  Bas looked up from his Legos and said, “I was good mom.  I didn’t open the door or anything.”

Such good boys.

Every knitter wishes for what I have.  I have a person to knit for who anxiously awaits his next article of knitware.  I have someone to peruse the isles of a yarn store with.  He examines the skeins looking for multi-colored skeins or just high intensity colors.

On our last trip, he picked up an electric blue skein and requested some socks.  The electric blue was not his first choice.  His first choice was a $30 cashmere hank, but I digress.  I purchased the yarn and he asked me if he could carry his yarn.  Sure.  He took a nap cradling the yarn.  I gently removed it so he wouldn’t get too hot.  As soon as he woke, he looked startled.  “Where’s my yarn?”  He even requested I play “Sound and Vision” by David Bowie.  After all, his yarn is “blue, blue, electric blue.”

I got a bonus pattern from a designer I like for toddler socks.  I started them last week.  He giggled and hopped up and down while I wound the yarn into a ball.  He sat close to me as knit, asking repeatedly to try them on.  I worked on them all afternoon and into the evening.  When he came out of his room during bedtime, I threatened to quit knitting if he came out again.  He stayed put.  I finished the first sock the next morning.  He wore it off and on all day.  Then the next.

I began the second sock during the weekend.  I worked on it yesterday in between chores.  Every time he noticed I had stopped, he asked me to please start again.  I finished it last night.  He saw the sock on the writing desk and ran upstairs to find the first.  He laughed crazily as he put the pair on.

I took a picture of the two.  The one on the right is fresh off the needles.  The sock on the left shows the “love” it has received.  It is even pilling a bit.

My only hope is that when he grows to be a man, he has little feet.  Even if he doesn’t, I’ll still love knitting for him.

Havein’ a Good Time

Yesterday it was my birthday.  If you know me well, then you know that my birthdays are never without conflict.  Whether I’m mourning the loss of my special birthday cake from Maurice’s (when we left for Katrina we left the cake behind) or wondering why no one ever showed to my birthday parties (labor day weekend is not conducive to elementary school blow-outs), I know there will always be something.

This year we opted for low-key.  Alton woke me up at 7:15.  I told him, “It’s mommy’s birthday.”  He just put Rosemary over his face and turned over.  I went downstairs and found a card Basile had made for me.

Deon placed it on the writing desk so I would see it right away.  Basile accused me of snooping.  I told him it was my birthday and he forgave me.

The day went on normal enough.  The boys only got into one bad fight.  When will children learn that touching each other with their feet is the worst insult ever, punishable by death.  Alton lunged for Basile who launched him into the air.  Alton landed on his face, on the ground.  Basile punished himself.

I spoke to most of my family and received much internet love.

I even got a package from my sisters.  I love packages!

I finished a pair of purple socks.  Things were looking good.

Deon called to tell me he would be home late.  I started boiling some potatoes for our dinner and then fed the kids.  While they ate, I decided to ice my birthday cake.  Basile wanted to put sprinkles on it for me so I said ok.  I brought the cake to the dining room table and turned on the light.  I spun the cake around while Basile shook sprinkles onto it.  Then I smelled something.  I could smell something burning.  I went into the kitchen to check the stove, nothing.  I walked around sniffing for the culprit but couldn’t find anything.  I started to panick a little.  Around and round I went sniffing feverishly.  What should I do?  Do I get the kids out the house?  Do I continue to just look?  Basile offered to touch everything in the house to find the fire with his hands.

More panick.  Basile pointed to the chandelier above Alton’s head and said, “Is that it?”  I looked up and saw Basile’s pajama bottoms caught on one of the faux-candle bulbs.  They were blackened.  I ran to the switched and shut it off.  I pulled the glowing pants down and ran to the sink.

I doused them with water and asked Basile how they got there.

“Alton did it.”

After some coaxing, Basile admitted guilt and became terrified we would give him away.  I calmed him down and explained that I would never give him away.  He just needs to listen to mommy and follow the rules.  They are there to keep him safe.  Funny thing is, I handle crazy things much more calmly than little things.

Deon came home and started to cook our dinner.  They sang “Happy Birthday”, had cake and ice cream and went to bed.  No candles, per my request.

Abstract Expressionism

I love my children.  I mean look at this face…

Is that not the face of an angel?  Innocence?  Those blue eyes, so pure.  It’s hard to be angry when you look at that face.

Alton was feeling very creative yesterday.  Unluckily for me, we were in the midst of a paper shortage.  He sat at my computer and started to write on an envelope I had left on the desk.  He used a pen.  I didn’t worry.  I sat down with Basile and watched him play his Super Hero Squad video game.  After a few minutes Alton came over to me.  As he jumped onto the sofa I noticed something odd about his legs.

No, make that many something odds.  Oh well. It’s just ink.  Basile noted that Alton must want a tattoo.  He then began to tell me that he would like one too.  When can he have one?  I told him the truth, after I’m dead.  I then pointed out that tattoos are made by stabbing you repeatedly with needles.  Basile changed his mind.

Later in the day, after dinner to be exact, I carried the laundry basket upstairs to pick up some clothes and towels.  Alton came with me and sat on the floor.  He amused himself with the Lego characters he had carried up there earlier in the day.  Not long after I started pick things up, Basile began to cry.  I went in his room and after a while was able to calm him down.  (You see, Deon bought some doughnut-like cakes when he picked up our pizza.  He ate one after dinner, but Basile, who didn’t realize there would be sweets later had made a big deal about being full after wasting a whole piece of pizza.  We told him he couldn’t have one, hence the broken-hearted cries that came about later.)  Bas and I went down the stairs to ask if he could be allowed one and that he was sorry for wasting.  Crisis contained.  I went back upstairs to check on Alton.  I opened the door and screamed in horror.

This 18″ x 12″ expressionist doodle was now on my carpet.  Brick red lipstick.  Fabulous!  I screamed.  Deon ran up the stairs just as Alton ran into the hallway covered in red.  I can’t really provide a good dialogue here.  It’s all a jumble.

I immediately went downstairs, grabbed my Martha Stewart Guide to Homekeeping and found the stain removal chart.  To my excitement, there were instructions on removing lipstick stains.  I gathered up my supplies and headed back up the stairs.

After about a half hour, I ran out of rubbing alcohol and acetone.  Deon told me he’d go to the store and pick some up, that and some wine.  Before they left I discovered this…

Alton had taken a crayon to the entire sliding glass door.  Silly me thinking he was just looking outside.  So while they shopped, I was left to clean the glass.

They returned and I went back to my lipstick stain.

That’s me quietly cleaning.  I worked until I could go no more.  Much to my sadness, the lipstick’s dye turned into this…

I now have a hot pink patch on my carpet.  I get to look at it every time I walk into the room or go to the bathroom.  Lovely.

I admitted defeat and went into the bathroom to take a bath.  It was not to be.  At least, not before more cleaning.

Deon had bathed him in our tub.  While Alton was clean, the lipstick decided to linger.  It was mocking me.  I scrubbed the tub and ruined yet another face cloth.  Oh well.

The night wore on and the boys were put to bed.  Deon and I settled onto the sofa with a glass of wine.  Alton came down the stairs after a while.  I asked him why he wrote on the carpet with my lipstick.  He said, “I didn’t do anything.”  The child has clearly been hanging out with Basile too long.  He also said he really, really won’t do it again.

Today I found this in the kitchen…

I bought a large ream of paper at Target.

Over the Hills and Far Away

Our Friday began as any other.  I feed the boys and cats and started on my Friday chores.  Fridays are for cleaning bathrooms.  I added a bit more than usual this day.  I tidied up every room in preparation, later in the day we were going on another road trip.  It seems that moving away from home turns one into a traveler.  I like to come home to a clean house.

Basile decided to prepare for the trip by turning into Clayface from Batman.

We set off in the late afternoon when Deon came home.  This drive was different.  The flat land around us was broken by mountains in the distance.  We twisted and turned and watch the car become encased in rock.  So cool.

The boys were pretty good on the road.  Basile brought David Bowie and only panicked when we drove through a mountain.  The GPS proclaimed that it had lost the signal and Basile shrieked “How are we going to get out!”

I must take a moment to complain about West Virginia.  I think it’s awful that they put tolls on sections of the interstate.  The roads weren’t even smooth or scenic!  And no warning!  Thankfully I had cash, which we almost never carry, otherwise we would have been screwed.  Thanks for listening.  I feel better.

After driving for 8 hours and spotting about 2 dozen deer (I counted), we arrived in Pennsylvania and went straight to bed.

The next morning we rolled out of bed.  Brittany and I had coffee while Deon and Mr. Gene watched the boys playing on the rocks outside their house.  Basile climbed about a foot off the ground and called for me to look.  I told Britt I needed to get the camera because Sir Robin the brave wouldn’t get any higher than that.

Alton, on the other hand, ran out of rock.  Gene had to pull him off the wall several times.  He even took a cut to the forehead to prove his prowess.

Alton is no fun in PA!  There are rocks to climb and jump

many chances to give one’s mother attacks of the heart.

We had lots of good food.

I really enjoyed the park not far from their house.  It was a lovely lake with swallows, wood duck, norther flicker, wildflowers, butterflies, all kinds of wildlife.  Right up this girl’s alley.  The boys enjoyed throwing rocks.

Paw Paw Gene and Basile had a great time together.

Later in the day we picked up Tim and headed off to see Geneva college.  It was there I spotted my first groundhog.  Everyone had a blast swinging on the tire near one of the buildings.

After Geneva we visited Buttermilk Falls.  It was very lovely.  I have no usable pictures because there were sketchy-scary looking people in the waterfall in bathing suits.  I’ll spare your eyes.

After dinner there was a fireworks display where the rivers met.  The boys hit their grandfather up for lightsabers, which made for some interesting pics.

I wanted to beat Basile over the head with his for complaining.  Sadly the day was over and tomorrow we would be heading back home.

The ride home was even more lovely.  I programmed the GPS to avoid the afore-mentioned toll roads.  This allowed us to take mostly state highways. It added about a half an hour if you don’t count the time added on by the wrong turns.  Crazy turns, quickly flowing creeks and lots of farmland.  The only draw back to the scenic route is the lack of bathrooms.

We stopped for lunch in a scary town the GPS couldn’t recognize.  I wasn’t worried since we had the Green Lantern with us.  I mean seriously, who would want to mess with that kind of intensity?

13 deer (3 of which were dead) and one rainstorm later we were home and ready to go back.

a day in my new house… just the highlights

I woke up this morning with Alton smashed against me.  Basile was peeking his head into the door.  He was saying something but my brain could not interpret it.  Too early.

I got dressed and brushed my teeth with Alton by my side.  Basile was Catwoman (“It’s just pretend.  Catwoman is a girl and I’m a boy.”) crouched between the kitty litter box and the toilet.  He and his cat Miso were stalking me.  We all went downstairs.

Ponnie began screaming as soon as my foot hit the wooden floor.  She was ready for breakfast.  Ponnie is the self-appointed kitty spokes-kitty, for those who aren’t in the know.  I had to remove the self-feeding units since the ants were helping ourselves.  That’s the problem with having a pest inspection in the winter.  Everything is gone for the winter.

After feeding the cats and the children I made myself some coffee and had a blueberry scone.

After breakfast, I set the Wii up for the boys and started cleaning.   I had to clean up the breakfast mess, pick up dishes and just general tidying.  I sat at the writing desk, drank my coffee, checked the net and went over my agenda for the day.

Since today is Wednesday, I was scheduled to clean the stairs, upstairs hall and all three bedrooms.  I have set up a very strict cleaning schedule based on the teachings of Martha Stewart.  I am such the devotee.  As per her instructions I cleaned the banister.  In doing so I discovered it was nasty!  I used water and white vinegar to remove the gunk and nasty film that had collected.  Yuck!

I couldn’t help wondering if anyone cleaned this house before we moved in.  Then I surmised that the people who bought our old house were probably wondering the same thing.  To those people, no.  I didn’t have time and hardly ever cleaned.  So there.

Now I was headed upstairs.  It would take more than the spell of the Wii to keep Popa in the living room.  I turned off the game and handed over the Lego men.

I pulled out the vacuum and started on the stairs.  It went a little something like this…

Vacuum first stair.

Alton wanders over handing me the Lego baseball player and his bat.  “Fix it.”

Fix it, began second stair.  Third stair. Check on children.

Repeat with various Lego minifigures.

I finally made it up the stairs, vacuumed the hall and the guest bedroom.  Now it was time to tackle the boys’ room.  I’ve been staying on top of them so it wasn’t too bad…

After some time, I was able to bring it back to this…

I cleaned our bedroom and then headed back downstairs.  Once there I began washing the sheets in fabu new washer.  I was then accosted by Hulk and Baby Hulk…

Time for lunch.  Ham sandwiches all around.  The boys have an unusual way of eating ham sandwiches.  They eat all the meat off the bread and may or may not eat the bread.  Once they are finished dinning they dash.  They are dine-and-dashers.  I then must sweep the floor and locate all the hidden food objects.  Much like the old Highlights for kids…

In case you were wondering what happened to the Legos…

Now I must confess, I am slightly… err… very ocd when it comes to Legos.  I can’t leave them like that.  Hairless and disheveled.  I return them to their places and reconfigure them so they are again in proper order.

Now skip to nap time.  Failure.  Both children refused to nap and now I must give them a snack.  Smoothies.

A little later I venture out to retrieve the garbage and recycle bins.  I cut up a couple of boxes and place them into the recycle bin.  Store them away and notice the plants look a little weepish.  I tell the boys I’m going to water the plants.  They spring from the sofa.  Alton begins screaming that he wants to go outside but doesn’t want to wear clothes.  After several minutes of fighting I get him dressed and the three of us venture into the back yard.  They keep trying to shove their hands into the hose’s mist and I relent.

Wet children.  Wet children who then find mud puddles.  Wet children who start playing in the bird bath once the hose is put away.  There is screaming, yanking off of muddy clothes while still outside and children now cold and wet inside the house.  Dirty children who sit on my cream-colored sofa.  What was I thinking getting a cream-colored sofa anyway?

Time to make dinner.  Tired children making messes.  Tired mommy yelling.  Daddy comes home.  Mommy sends him and the kids to Target so she can finish dinner.  Tired mommy sits at computer, chronicles her life.  She then gets up to have herself a glass of wine and wait for her family.  Bracing herself for the disappointment of her children when they find out dinner is a Greek spinach pie.  Opa!

Journey to Houston

The alarm went off at 5:30 am.  I rolled out of bed, turned off the alarm, and went downstairs.  Coffee, must make coffee.  I filled a container for each of us and went back upstairs.  I got myself ready, then packed the car, then back upstairs to pull the children out of bed and dress them.

How was I able to do all of this?  If you know me, then you know I am non-functioning until I’ve had a cup of coffee and it is at least 9:30 am.  Planning.  The night before I put out all the boys clothes and set everything up.  Then while Deon slept I ran through scenarios until 3 am when I finally fell asleep.  This had to go smooth.  The boys had never flown before.

Alton didn’t have a seat and would have to sit on one of our laps.  The center aisle looks awfully fun to run on while the plane is in mid-air.  Basile confided that he was afraid.  Being so high in the sky was certainly an invitation for aliens to board the plane.  They would take it over for sure.  Basile has his dad’s imagination and fascination with aliens coupled with his mother’s fear of everything.

I got us out the door and on the road at 6:40 am.  Only 10 minutes behind schedule.

We had a three-hour drive to get to the airport in Raleigh.  Thankfully, we didn’t hit any traffic.  The boys did great.  There was some sleeping…

some eating…

and lots of MobiGo.

We got to the airport and had to make our way to the ticket counter.  I had to check Alton in since he was a unticketed lap” child.

Oh Fortuna!  Our planes had open seats!  We were able to use Alton’s car seat on the plane.  He would be strapped in and unable to run laps in the plane.  Awesome!

Now for the waiting.

waiting…

and more waiting.

Time to board the plane.  Deon had to go to the back of the plane before he found three seats together with another across the aisle.  Alton’s car seat had to go in the window seat.  Deon took the middle seat between the two boys and I took the aisle seat in the row across.

The boys did great.  The only time Basile got nervous was when he accidentally swallowed his gum.  Deon told him that if he swallowed it, it would stick to his ribs.  He went into a panic.  Happily, it didn’t last long.

One plane down, one to go.

While waiting for the second plane, we had lunch and Deon took the boys over to the play area in the Tennessee airport.  There was still waiting…

and waiting.

We boarded the second plane.  This time I sat in the middle.  Again, the boys did great.  Basile fell asleep, in true to Basile form, right before the plane started the final descent.

This descent was from 36,000 feet.  It really hurt my ears and Basile’s too.

We landed.  The boys were wonderful.  It was bunches easier than we expected it to be.  Just another new adventure for the Roberts, and no aliens.

Rosemary flambe with coffee

Like most people, I can’t function in the morning before I’ve had coffee.  This morning was no exception.  The boys were pretty patient this morning.  That flew out the door as soon as I walked into the kitchen.  Basile sat at the table and asked for oatmeal.  He makes it himself.  This means that he stirs the oatmeal until the liquid has been absorbed.  I didn’t even get to heat my water for my coffee when Alton lost it.  He screamed at the top of his lungs.  When Alton is hungry he wants to eat 10 minutes ago.

I ran out of fast breakfast food.  That’s the down side of doing all your grocery shopping once a week.  By Friday I have to get creative.

I was able to make french toast after a little improvisation.  This is not the easiest task when you have a child weaving in and out of your legs.  He screamed as I combined all of the ingredients.  By this time Basile had finished his oatmeal and they went in the living room to play.

I started cooking and set up the french press while they played.  I looked into the living room and saw Basile attempting to jump over Alton’s head.  I told him to stop but Basile knows way more than mommy ever will.  True to form, Basile missed and landed on Alton.  The crying started anew.  He ran into the kitchen and remembered he was hungry.  There was nothing I could do.  I picked him up and showed him that the food was cooking.

He looked at me and said, “help mommy cook.”

“No,” I said.

He screamed and threw Rosemary, the beloved lamb-headed blanket, at the stove.  She landed in the pan.  I dropped Alton into a chair and ran to remove her.  My reaction freaked him out so much the really lost it.  Thankfully the toast was done.

I could finally have my coffee.

An afternoon at IKEA

On our regular Saturday drive today Deon asked me, which, too, is normal, where I wanted to go.  I looked up from my knitting and said, “I don’t know.”

“How about Ikea?”

“Sure, let’s go.”

We walked through the showroom, me with one of their strollers to contain Basile and Deon holding the not-quite-asleep Alton.  I soon discovered the strollers are not meant for walking through the displays.  Fabulous for a walk along the isle, but if you intend on looking closely at items while dreaming about what would go in a new home, think again.  It soon became clear that I needed to abandon it and trick Basile into walking.

“How would you like to try sitting in all the chairs like Mommy?”

“Sure!”

Basile can move about a store like lightening.  If you blink, you lose him.  Obviously, he forgot to tell me he was Quicksilver today.  He enjoyed his new freedom, laying about, discussing which objects he thought we needed.

He wants a new bed, a bunk bed with a canopy.

Seeing as how he is afraid of heights, I’m not sure how that would go.

At the end of the visit we got 3 yogurts, one for Basile, one for me and one for Deon and Alton to share.  Deon got a couple licks of the yogurt, then Alton started devouring the cone.  Deon warned me to eat faster.  Sure enough Alton looked at me and said, “Want more ice cream.”  Then he smiled and opened his eyes as wide as he could.  I gave him mine.

He then turned his attention to Basile.  When Basile refused his requests he screamed, “WANT MORE ICE CREAM!”

This was followed by lots of lunging across the table and swats of frustration.

As we left I took a new family portrait.