Candy has created a monster.

Halloween 2009, the year our sweet boy turned into a freaking candy eating crack rat. Wow. Who knew. Last year he couldn't be bothered with actually eating the candy--he just enjoyed an opportunity to take something from a stranger and put it in his bag (this year we upgraded him from bag to pumpkin--maybe that was the beginning of the problem). LAST year when we tried to entice him to pick something out of his stash (we thought it would be cute to see what candy he liked, what he disliked), he just played with the wrappers and we ended up eating it. I went on the South Beach Diet about a week later...coincidence?

"Want go home and eat Halloween stuff?"

This is his new mantra. I took him to the playground today, as it was sunny and apparently there are 'big changes ahead' weatherwise for us in Tacoma. Usually this occupies him totally--running around, slides, pushing swings (he doesn't like to actually get on them), etc...but today he ran up to me in between each fun and seemingly token activity to beg to go home and...eat candy. He has lost love for his favorite of all time, Morningstar Farms Veggie Sausages. This is huge. This is all he has eaten for the past year, basically. It seems he's figured out that they contain zero percent chocolate. Luckily I also love the Veggie Sausages. Luckily because there are about six boxes of them in our freezer (Fred Meyer was having a sale). I TRY to avoid the 'if you eat your dinner you can pick something out of your pumpkin'--I don't want him to get the idea that this will always be the case, right? Last night, though, I was weak. I was tired. It just...came out. Today when I set his lunch before him he piped up with 'If I eat this can I pick something out of my pumpkin?' Fast learner.


On the bright side, the first thing he did this morning was swipe a Granny Smith apple off the counter. He walked around the house and ate the whole thing--so proud to exhibit the fact that he is a big boy and no longer needs the apple either peeled or cut. And he still likes his mac and cheese. Just not as much. See before and after shot below. That's my boy!

Never Buy New

We've needed a new car for some time now. We were thinking about getting a new one when we were pregnant, until it occurred to us the foolishness of getting a fresh shiny new car just before embarking on a new life of Cheerios and spit-up and sticky peanut-butter fingers etc. One poor decision on my part to give Ellis Strawberry Quik on a road trip (yes, I did it) and it's all over for that new car smell. That's one thing I love about our Jetta. It is so cosmetically imperfect, stains and scratches

mean nothing. And when we do buy, I doubt we'll buy new, for that very reason.

However, you don't have that luxury when it comes to your child's face. You get this perfect beautiful little human, and hard as you may try, you can't keep them fresh from the factory. I've gotten used to the knee scrapes (ever present) and he did get a little puncture wound on his lip from a sharp corner of our coffee table a few weeks ago (which looked unpleasantly and unfortunately exactly like a cold sore), but nothing prepared me for the epic chin-splitting episode we experienced on Monday.

I had a meeting in Seattle, and Erik and Adeline were in town and agreed to come to Seattle with me and play in the park with Ellis until my meeting was over. Once finished, I joined them at the park and watched how carefully Ellis was walking in circles, balancing on the cement curb that bordered a sandbox with a shiny chrome dome slide type thing. Adeline was there, holding his hand. He was very focused. "He's done that about twenty times," Erik said. As Ellis approached me, I swung him up into my arms for a hug, but he clearly wanted back down to continue his new obsession. THE MINUTE I set him down, he fell smack on his face, audibly hitting the cement curb, scraping open his knees and splitting open his chin.

Blood everywhere.

Adeline had the smart idea to run over to some Park Maintenance guys to see if they had a First Aid kit (They did, and told her they had just put it in the truck that morning!!! There's Ellis's guardian angel at work again!). Erik fixed his little godson up while I held him and sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider (he'll probably hear that song in his nightmares hereafter--good thing I chose one that's already kind of creepy). We determined ultimately that he didn't need stitches, though I wasn't totally sure. I could tell that it wasn't life-threatening, and I didn't want to traumatize him further with a trip to the ER. One thing I am sure of is that he will have a pretty big scar on his chin. Scars are cool right? Look at Scarface? Oh, wait. Bad example.

So, I guess I have to get used to it. I can't keep him a little pristine perfect baby boy forever, but I'll do by best to protect him. And I promise not to shave his hair into a mohawk or give him a rat-tail. What more can I do.

Oh yeah....

Whew! I almost forgot I had a blog! How on earth do the weeks and months fly by the way they do...I think Ben Folds said it best with 'the seconds pass slowly and the years go flying by.'

I'll do what I can to keep up.