Playing Basketball

Halloween Bat

Isaiah was a bat, at least for a few minutes. Then he started saying help, and we had to switch to a shirt with no wings sewn on.

At the Grown-ups' Table

Tonight Matt invited Isaiah to sit "in a regular chair"; he accepted eagerly, even grabbing his drink and moving it from the high-chair tray to the table. Isaiah climbed into the chair and got settled, took a big bite of his corn, and kicked off the following dialogue:

Isaiah: So how's your day?

Mama: (Trying not to crack up completely.) My day was fine. How was yours?

Isaiah: OK. (Pauses and looks around with a grin.) We are all eating in chairs. We have no experience. We are not at all offended.

Daddy could only laugh helplessly through all of this. Bernadette slept.

p.s. Although we've been reading the Little House books, I've read chunks of them to myself, and Isaiah just listens to whatever part I happen to be on when he asks to "hear more about Laura." Today, however, Isaiah and I finished reading the first novel that he listened to all the way through: Stuart Little. When I closed it, Isaiah said, "Read it again!" So my challenge now is to figure out how to explain that a novel is different from a picture book, that we just spent three days reading the whole thing, and that I'm not going to go back to the beginning and start all over. Or I can do what I did today--divert his attention. Or I can go back to the beginning and start all over. Any ideas?

Siblings

Couch Time

Looking up at the world.

More Personification

(With a Little Onomatopoeia Thrown In)

It seems there's something about a swing that really brings out the bard in our young man. Today, after swinging for half an hour while engaging in our traditional activity of pointing out all the different kinds of trucks that went by, I asked Isaiah if he wanted to play on the slides.

"No," he said. "Still swinging. Still listening to the babble of sweet trucks."

The Little Pumpkin

Fall in Bristol

Isaiah didn't get to handle the knife this year. Maybe next fall.

Notes

Tuesday
Playground in the dark, sliding, swinging under a moon alternately shrouded and peeking between the clouds. Cooling air, accented by wood smoke and dry leaves. On the way home, we raced.

Friday
"Cars and Trucks and Things That Go" has 70 pages. I think Isaiah has it memorized. He just recited 50+ pages to us (he occasionally flipped past a few).

Saturday
Eight pumpkins carved. Lots of snacks consumed. But the best part of the day was socializing and watching the kids running around.

Sunday
The problem with Stellaluna? The new favored form of transport around our house is upside down.

Clear, babbling stream on an overcast fall day. A couple of brilliant leaves peek back at us from the bottom. So do the acorns that hit the surface with a pleasant plunk and then sank when we tossed them by ones and twos.

Grandma Time

Bernadette hangs out with Grandma Tascio in Pawling.

Basketball Practice

I looked over after doing something in the kitchen last night and saw Bernadette had found the basketball (or maybe Isaiah rolled it to her?). She bumped it as she waved her arms, causing it to gently roll back and forth.

Saturdays At The Green House

Isaiah loves the swings. I get to push everybody. Nangelie (foreground) likes to push Isaiah and tries to pick him up, but he's leery of her efforts.


He also likes the trucks and Play-Doh. And sometimes he engages the other kids.

The Young Poet Dabbles in Personification (and a New Cuisine)

This afternoon at the playground, when the wind kicked up and swirled the leaves below Isaiah's dangling feet, he looked down from the swing, pointed, and grinned. "The leaves are chasing each other," he said.

But lest you start thinking he's become a complete erudite before his time, let me add that one of his favorite outdoor activities lately has been nibbling grass on his hands and knees, just to see how it tastes. I admit that today, reminding him of that activity was how I got him to hold still so I could put his shoes on. I'll try to get a picture next time. Please don't have me arrested.

Amusement Park

Notes

Delayed departure for work this morning because Bernadette was sleeping on my chest. I couldn't bring myself to disturb her. Soon enough she woke and started looking for milk.

On a recent evening I was playing with Bernadette on the bed while Marian prepared for bed. The youngster grew tired of our games and began to agitate, with growing vocal distress, for her mother. Isaiah came in to play with his trucks next to us. Fascinated, she quieted down and stared at her noisy brother's driving.

Friday night Isaiah and I went to high school football game. On the way home, he provided this summary: "We had fun. We watched the football game. We ate popcorn. And we ate a pretzel."

Halo Effect

The digital camera is slowly dying. The result: this cute, oversaturated image of the siblings from this morning. Isaiah initially agreed to give Bernadette a kiss, then demurred.

Conversations

Isaiah (pointing to a photo of a blue tractor in a book): That's Grandpa's tractor.

Mama: That's right.

Isaiah: Grandpa will give you (meaning "me") a ride on his tractor.

Mama: I bet he will.

Isaiah: Or on a combine.

Mama: A combine?

Isaiah: Or on a airplane.

Mama: I don't know if Grandpa can fly an airplane.

Isaiah: Maybe Grandma can fly a airplane.

Feeling inspired, Grandma?

And later that same day...

Marian (to Matt): I think you're going to have to buy a shotgun when Bernadette grows up.

Matt: Why?

Marian: Because she's so pretty.

Matt: Oh, if we raise her right there'll be no need for that.

Marian: Yeah...

Matt: She'll have her own shotgun.

Hats On

Bernadette models the new pumpkin top Michelle made and gave her at the Collinsville farmers market.