Joker Face

The ones from the cutting-room floor of our holiday card project:

Ten Carrot Go

This punny title isn’t worth its weight in gold, but this picture’s worth a thousand laughs. (That container he's pushing down the hallway? His diaper pail.)

Cous and Effect

Whenever Reed and Olivia get together to play with their sole cousin – Quintin’s a cool guy, so I guess he’s also a soul cousin – the fun, smiles, and presents ensue. After Turkey Day hosting duties of their own, Uncle Erick and Aunt Danielle paid us a visit this weekend. It’d been since Easter that we’d seen them, and so it’s been great catching up. To boot, my brother has a job interview on Monday in the city over from ours, which means that if all goes well, we will soon be able to spend more time together beyond the occasional holiday weekend.

Over the Topper

A star is born bound: Olivia affixed the starry topper to the Christmas tree this evening. When decorating the tree, we had to leave the bottom third of it bare because Reed insisted on grabbing all the spherical ornaments within reach. He would place them on the ground as if he were setting up penalty kicks, and yelled “goal” any time he sent one rolling.

Not Thankful for the Thankflu

Three-quarters of the whole lot of us was sick this Tofurkey Day, which meant that we had to cancel our dinner plans with friends. Beni and Olivia were bed- and couch-bound with flu-like symptoms, and Reed’s temperature was at a fevered pitch. My guess is this wave of non-wellness probably had something to do with the Lions being on national television.

House of Pain

The truth hurts, but so does catching the side of your head on a corner. The truth is that the little guy calmed down quickly after the hard knock, especially when we got him looking like his favorite musical artist.

Back to the Featured

(Photo courtesy of Olivia's first-grade teacher)

Last week was Olivia’s turn as her class’s “Featured Friend,” a program her teacher has implemented so that each student is highlighted and celebrated for a whole week at some point during the school year. The kids are given a poster board to create and share a timeline of their lives, and they are encouraged to bring in other materials and persons of significance. Beni and Reed made an appearance early in the week, and I stopped by for an origami demonstration and question-and-answer session that left me as baffled as Sarah Palin after a Katie Couric interview. (Sample questions: What is your second-least favorite color? Can you say something in Chinese? What is your third-most favorite mammal?)

Speaks (at High) Volumes

A glimpse of our mornings, afternoons, evenings, and occasional middle-of-the-nights:

Call of the Wild Child from chris k on Vimeo.

Family Treat

Perhaps they should rename it the Festival of Cookies: Beni took the kids to the annual Festival of Trees fundraiser, where they participated in the annual noshing on festive cookies. When not licking off the frosting, Reed spent most of his time parked in front of the Plinko board.

Mug (for the Camera) Shots

The next time you catch me in a bad mood, or I’m coding blue—that state of being down in the dumps—please refer me to these pictures of Reed:

Sad—Cow(s) Deceased

On the way home from school, Olivia spotted a cattle truck heading toward the highway. Below is an excerpt of the conversation that she had with Beni about the fate of those cows.

O: "How many cows are there on that truck?"

B: "About 100."

O: "So that’ll make about 10,000 hamburgers, right?"

[Olivia starts to cry thinking about this.]

O: "Do they ever grind up people and then people eat them?"

B: "No, you’re not allowed to do that. That’s a law."

O: "Well, has it ever happened?"

B: "It might have happened a long time ago."

O: "Like when Abraham Lincoln was alive in the 1800s?"

Scooby Derring-Do

So this news story has gotten a lot of attention over the course of this week. It seems some people were aghast that a five-year-old boy would want to dress up as a woman – in this case, as Daphne from Scoobie Doo – for Halloween. The child’s mother did what any self-respecting parent would do in her situation – she took to her blog to make public her dismay for those dismayed, passionately defending her son’s right to individuality.

This hit close to home because Olivia went trick-or-treating as a man this year, a year after she picked out her duds from the boys’ side of the Halloween-costume store. But since the societal expectations that we place on boys are different from girls, I understand what the blogger means when she notes that “[I]f my daughter had dressed as Batman, no one would have thought twice about it. No one.”

Olivia got nary a disparaging remark or snide comment for her Lincoln get-up; if anything, she was lauded for her creativity and originality. Sadly for this boy and others in his shoes/boots/whatever, their social norms are such that transgendered expressions are often met with scorn and derision. I try to imagine how I’d handle everything if, in four years, Reed insists that for Halloween he go as Cleopatra or – gasp! – Lady Gaga. Would I handle things as gracefully as this mom, or would I bow to societal pressures? Could I muster the wit to disarm the critics with a “…I am not worried that your son will grow up to be an actual ninja so back off”?

Elect-ile Dysfunction

There were many predictions that were made about yesterday’s national elections. One that came true was Beni’s foretelling that our last name would be butchered and commented on by the polling volunteers at our voting site. (Note to these people: our disclosure of our “ethnic” last name should not be accompanied by sighs, eye rolls, and nervous laughter. Your attempts at humor are not funny. Go back and read your training manual about decorum. And immediately remove your head from your insensitive ass.)

We, as voters, faced the choice of the same versus the same of not long ago. If only we had a more compelling option, such as the one we faced as we walked in our polling place:

And young people of legal voting age of Democratic persuasion, a message for you.

Please don’t shoot – I’m just a messenger. But consider this: if the six-year-old below was excited about the prospect of one day casting a ballot, then you shouldn’t waste the opportunity to point the country, state, city, township, or municipality in the direction you see fit.