Dad, a many-splendored word

In the wake of Thanksgiving, one thing I’m thankful for is the way my son says “Dad,” or more accurately, the many ways he says “Dad.” 

 

It’s similar to the Eskimos having numerous words to describe snow (or so I’ve heard, I have very limited knowledge of Eskimo languages.)  But rather than having many words to describe one thing, Luke uses one word to communicate many things.   From the mouth of a toddler, ‘Dad’ is a single word used to express an abundance of thoughts and ideas

 

For Luke, ‘Dad’ is a universal catchall when he wants to get my attention, tell me something, ask me to do something, or point me out to someone else.  It’s infused with emotion, meaning, and, I’d like to think, love and admiration.  It can be a declaration, request, urgent plea, expression of contentment, or simple introduction.

 

What follows is a sampling of some of the many meanings of “Dad” when said by Luke (meanings are divined by tone and situational context):

 

Dad, get my milk. (pointing to sippy cup or fridge)

Dad, pick me up. (arms wide, reaching up)

Dad, put me down. (squirming)

Dad, bring me downstairs. (pointing to the stairs)

Dad, it’s your turn to… dance/sing/jump up and down/ put on a hat/or do some other silly thing that either he, his mother, or sister just did.

Dad, get me out of this high chair.

Dad, get me out of this well-meaning friend/relative’s hands.

Dad, I’m up in the middle of the night and want company/to come to your bed (often said in a type of groan and heard through the monitor)

Dad, wake up. (said as he’s either poking me, climbing on top of me, or trying to shove  my glasses on my face)

Dad, look at this mess I made.

Dad, look what I just broke.

Dad, my hand/arm/finger is stuck someplace I shouldn’t have been sticking it. (frantically)

Dad, look at all the food in my mouth (mumbled, with some food falling out)

Dad, I’m going to ride you like a horse now (struggling to get on my back while making clicking or neighing noises)

           

Of course, “Dad” isn’t always directed at me.  Often he’ll say it to others as a way of asking them to give him to me or to get me.  He also says it to announce my arrival into a room, usually with great pride and happiness.  He uses it as a form of introduction, as if to say, “Here is my dad, the man I love and adore.”

 

Sometime, it’s just an expression of contentment as I’m holding him and he lovingly pats me on the back, saying “Dad.”

 

“Dad” is often, as Obama would say, a game changer.

 

I could be in the worst mood and having a really unproductive day at work when I’ll hear Karen, Charlotte, and Luke return to the house from an errand.  I’ll hear little footsteps making a beeline for my office accompanied by “Dad… Dad… Dad…” as he bursts in to my office with a big smile, punctuated by one last, contented “Dad” as he climbs into my lap.

 

In which case, I take “Dad” to mean “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

Life doesn’t really get much better than that.  It makes all of the less convenient, less pleasant, whining “Dad”’s immeasurably easier to deal with. 

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (possibly with a side of leftover turkey.)

 

Story Time Rock Star!

We go to a lot of story times, and the the storytellers can be hit or miss.  I say “storytellers” because I believe reading to kids is an art form that transcends simply reading a book out loud and showing the pictures.

 

At libraries, the storytellers are usually pretty good (after all, they are librarians).  But at bookstores, they’re often less storyteller and more reader – dull and droning.  I often get the impression that the only reason this person is sitting in front of a group of children and reading  is because they were the last bookstore employee to say “not it” or place a finger to their nose.

 

Oh well.  We take the good with the bad.  Often, during less than stellar story times, I’ll daydream about how I would read the story differently.  After all, with over three years of reading stories out loud on a daily basis, I’ve gotten lots of practice.  I admit, I longed for the chance to ‘perform’ in front of a larger group

 

Several weeks ago, I had my opportunity.  Luke and I had dropped Charlotte off at preschool and headed to the local chain bookstore for its weekly story time.  It’s a great venue: at one end of the children’s section is a train table play area, and at the other is a small stage, complete with pillars.  I think there’s even a type of proscenium arch.

 

But back to my story.  The turnout on this day was great.  There must have been about 15-20 kids – a total crowd of about 30 – waiting anxiously for a story while sitting on the benches and floor surrounding the stage. 

 

At a couple of minutes past the appointed story time, an unfamiliar book store employee came to the stage to inform the group that, because someone had called in sick and the other children’s section clerk had left for break before they realized, today’s story time was cancelled.

 

I could not help but think that the story time gods had smiled upon me, but I didn’t want to take this chance for granted.  I proceeded cautiously.

 

As parents considered their options, I calmly noted, “Well, we are all here for a story.  It seems a shame to disappoint the kids… one of us could read a story…”

 

I let it hang out there, but just for a moment, before humbly offering…

 

“If no one else wants to… I suppose I could.”

 

A few people murmured their assent, and everyone settled back into their seats.  Someone suggested Eric Carle, and I was on.  I grabbed the “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” and began to the story.

 

I must say, in my humble and unbiased opinion, I was a true storyteller.  I would pause the story to ask questions (“Has anyone seen a caterpillar?  How about a butterfly?”)  I made sure all the kids saw the pictures, slowly turning the book from side to side.  I responded to kids who made comments (“He did eat a lot, Timmy – have you ever eaten that much?”)

 

I was feeling it.  The caterpillar wasn’t the only hungry one.  I had the kids eating out of my hand, and I was hungry for more. 

 

When the story concluded, I quickly offered to read another one, and my audience enthusiastically accepted.  The story time went on. 

 

I felt like a rock star.

 

Granted, Luke didn’t seem all that impressed.  His dad as storyteller was old hat for him, and he quickly lost interest and began exploring stage right. 

 

I was disappointed that Charlotte couldn’t have been there to see it.  When we picked her up, I told her what happened, and her eyes went wide.  “You told the story!?” she exclaimed.  I knew it made an impression on her because the first thing she said to Karen when she got home was,  “Mom, Dad read the story at story time.”

 

Who knows if my memory is completely accurate?  I’d like to think it is.  There is some evidence to support my recollection.  While we were unable to attend the next two story times, we did return to some acclaim on the third week.  One of the other parents greeted me enthusiastically, commenting that everyone had been talking about what a great job I had done.  I responded as humbly as I could (aw shucks, me?).

 

After having had a turn on the big stage, I suppose that whenever I’m at a story time from now on, I’ll hold out some hope that the storyteller will be a no show.  But until that day comes again, my performances will be limited to the bedroom or playroom floor in front my usual audience of two.

 

I can definitely live with that.  After all, it is a pretty good gig.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.”  And, screamed from a stage to a clamoring mass of screaming fans…

            Thank you, (insert your city here)!

“Get Me!”

 

“Get Me!” has quickly become Charlotte and Luke’s new favorite game.

 

It consists of running frantically around the circle in our basement playroom created by the stairway/storage closet.  It’s popularity has no doubt been driven by the several consecutive days of freezing temperatures that have forced us inside and in search of new ways to release energy.

 

In its purest form, “Get Me!” is more basic than even ‘hide and seek’ because there’s no hiding involved.  And for the most part, my kids don’t even really care if they’re caught (although they do greatly enjoy the resulting ticklefest).  They love to run (while screaming, squealing, laughing, and, of course, yelling “Get me!”)

 

“Get Me!” also has various permutations that involve princes, princes, knights, and dragons (guess who’s who?); dinosaurs; giants (large and small); and lions and other wild creatures.  There are also occasionally physical props – the popper (that classic push/pull noisemaking toy), wings and various other dress-ups, and puppets, usually animals making the appropriate sounds (although a mooing sheep has been known to participate.).

 

“Get Me!” is great fun and good exercise.  Each lap is about 35 feet (yes, I did measure it), which means that three and a half laps is the equivalent of a 40 yard dash, and nine laps is just over the length of a football field.

 

I estimate that each game of “Get Me!” results in at least 15 laps (over 500 feet), and that we play an average of three times a day (1,500 feet), minimum.  If we extrapolate through the winter (three months), we will be running an approximate total of 135,000 feet (actually, the kids will be running 135,000 feet – Karen and I will be running less since both of us don’t play every time.)

 

Which means that Charlotte and Luke will be running almost 26 miles this winter – nearly the length of a marathon – entirely on a course defined by a small circle in our basement. 

Similarly, they will be traveling the equivalent of each of the following:

• The height of Mount Everest (29,029 ft) over four times;
• The length of the Golden Gate bridge (8,981 ft) over 15 times;
• The length of the Brooklyn bridge (6,927 ft) almost 20 times;
• The height of the Eiffel tower (about 1,000 ft) 135 times.

Go figure.

 

When we’re not downstairs, Charlotte will frequently declare, with great excitement, “Let’s play ‘Get Me!’” and head for the stairs, followed closely by her little brother as he repeats, “Get me! Get me!”  As soon as Luke’s feet touch the basement floor, he’s off, exclaiming “Run, Run!” while looking back to make sure we’re right behind him.

 

I can now officially declare that our kids have us running in circles, both literally and figuratively.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

Dad… Dad… Dad… CHUCK!

I remember the first time it happened.  I tend to be easily distracted or lost in thought (or a lack of thought), and Luke was trying to get my attention, calling ‘Dad’ several times before resorting, loudly, to my given name: CHUCK! (must have picked that up from his mom.)

 

This incident raises an interesting question: when do our kids stop viewing us simply as parents who can do no wrong and begin viewing us as the rest of the world does — as human beings with flaws and shortcomings? 

 

Right now, I still feel as though I’m “SuperDad,” with all the answers and the ability to protect my kids from danger (relatively speaking) and make them laugh at will (“Dad, you’re so funny!”) 

 

But I do realize that this is too good to last, that one day, potentially soon, they’ll find some, or maybe even all, of my jokes lame and be embarrassed by my dance moves, the very same moves they try to mimic today (“Do it again, Dad!”)

 

Sadly, the day will come when, in my kids eyes, I’ll revert from the hero I am today to the adult version of the awkward adolescent who was one of the last kids picked in gym class (yup, you know what I’m talking about.)

 

In my perfect world, the image of “Dad” (or “SuperDad”) and “Chuck” would be one and the same – that it wouldn’t matter if my kids saw me as the rest of the world does because that view wouldn’t be much different from their own (or it may actually be better because the rest of the world doesn’t have to live with me and deal with my quirks every day.)

 

I suppose this is one of the ways in which our kids make us better people – by giving us an image of our better selves to strive toward.  I’m more conscious of my actions now because I realize I’m setting an example for my kids, that by being a better person, I’ll help them become better people.

 

That, and because I want to stay up on the pedestal as long as I can, decked out in my superhero tights with my cape blowing in the wind (how’s that for an image of myself?)

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Barbershop Quartet

“What’s that?” asked the young boy, pointing to the image of a leaf on my baseball cap.

 

I was picking up my daughter from pre-school, and one of her friends had come over to say ‘Hello.’  That morning had been a little crazy, and I hadn’t had a chance to shower (par for the course).  The lack of a morning shower, combined with being in desperate need of a haircut, had left my hair in a messy state of affairs, necessitating a hat.  The easiest one to grab was an “Everwood” (former WB show) baseball cap with a leaf on it (suitably autumnal for the season) that I had gotten as a free giveaway.

 

When the young boy inquired about my hat, I had a momentarily lapse, forgetting the reason I had donned it in the first place.  Without thinking, I took it off to give him a better look at the leaf and, unfortunately, my hair.  Exacerbated by the hat, my hair was standing up in several directions.

 

His eyes went wide.

 

“Can I touch it?” he eagerly asked, reaching forward.

 

At this point, three or four additional toddlers had gathered in a semi-circle around me, all clamoring to touch my hair.

 

Their voices joined a growing chorus, led by my wife, emphasizing my desperate need for a haircut.

 

Karen had sung the opening lines a couple of weeks earlier when she pointed out that I had grown wings again.  (My hair tends to flair out over my ears when it gets too long.)

 

And the exuberant group of toddlers standing in front of me, a unique type of barbershop quartet, had brought the ‘Get a Haircut’ chorus to a crescendo.

 

So, to make a long story short (though it’s probably too late), I’ve got to fly.  Time for a haircut.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Cover stories… great children’s books

In my first post, I promised to highlight various books, music ,movies, etc. that my family and I enjoy, and I’m beginning with this post on children’s books.  Karen and I both love to read, both children’s books and adult books. 

 

So far, all things indicate that we are successfully instilling this same love of reading in our children.  We spend a lot of time reading and frequent local libraries and bookstores.  Charlotte often calls the bookstore ‘the library’ and refers to the bookstore staff as ‘librarians.’

 

What follows are some of our favorite children’s books.  It is by no means a comprehensive list and I welcome your feedback, additions, and deletions.  Whenever I do a post like this, I’ll try to include a mix of classics and some lesser known titles.  I’ve also embedded Amazon links for most of the books and authors included.

 

So let’s let the wild rumpus start with… 

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.  A long-time favorite (as it is for many people), although I have been underwhelmed by Sendak’s other week, some of which is downright creepy.

 

And of course, we love just about anything by Dr. Seuss: Red Fish, Blue Fish; Yertle the Turtle; The Sneetches; The Lorax; Happy Birthday To You; Horton Hears a Who; The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, etc.  An additional note for those in the Springfield, Massachusetts area: the Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden is a cool place to visit for Dr. Seuss fans (and children of all ages.)

 

Another iconic children’s author is Eric Carle.  My personal favorite is Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me.  (I’m a sucker for dad books.  Another fun dad book, particularly for Garrison Keillor fans, is his Daddy’s Girl.)  Speaking of Eric Carle, if you’re ever in the Amherst, Mass. area, check out the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. 

 

For board books, you can’t go wrong with Sandra Boynton.  She also has a couple of great combination books/cds (Philadelphia Chickens, Dog Train, Rhinoceros Tap) with quirky and funny songs, often performed by celebrities and popular bands.  I’ll revisit them when I do a music post.

 

Leonardo, the Terrible Monster by Mo Willems is a great book with an ironic title (it’s about a monster who can’t scare anyone).  Willems, formerly of Sesame Street, also wrote the Pigeon series (including Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!), Knuffle Bunny, and his ‘Elephant and Piggie’ Learn to Read series.

 

Click, clack, moo: Cows that type by Doreen Cronin (although I wonder if kids today even know what a typewriter is anymore.)

 

Milo’s Hat Trick by Jon Agee (anothet funny Agee book is Nothing).           

Mole Music by David McPhail (a really cool, off beat story about the power of music).

Oops by Mercer Mayer.  A virtually wordless book (except for the word “Oops”).  Normally, I’m not a big fan of wordless books (I’m a big fan of words), but my kids absolutely love this book (and I do, too.)  Unfortunately, this book no longer seems to be in print.  We stumbled across it at our local library.

And, in closing, two (actually three) books on the more spiritual and Zen side: Zen Shorts by Jon J. Muth (and also The Three Questions) and You Are Special by Max Lucado

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.”

Toilet Paper

According to a Consumer Reports survey detailed in today’s paper, “81 percent of married women say that they alone (emphasis mine) decide what toilet paper and other personal care items to buy for the household.”

 

I find it hard to believe that more than eight out of ten husbands are uninvolved in the choice of toilet paper they use.  There were also additional statistics that I found surprising but that reinforced traditional gender and role stereotypes, including that “77 percent (of married women) say they alone decide what groceries and canned goods to buy.”

 

Are most husbands really that uninvolved in basic household decisions?  The above statistic implies that just over two out of ten husbands, maximum, are even minimally involved in grocery shopping.  I realize that my married relationship may not be typical in the degree to which we share such tasks.  I tend to be hyper-involved in decisions, including the choice of toilet paper, because I am somewhat anal (pun intended) and because we each stay home with the kids an equal amount of the time and share household chores and shopping responsibilities.  Far from typical, I know.

 

But less than two out of ten men are involved in the choice of toilet paper?  Could that be true?

 

Before getting married, I lived with a friend who preferred the cushiest toilet paper I’ve ever used.  It was so thick, the smallest amounts could clog the toilet.  It was practically cloth.  And not the thin, scratchy kind.  It felt like super-soft, Egyption cotton.   I mean, it was nice, but it was still being used to wipe up excrement before being flushed into the sewerage system.  Seemed like a waste to me.  But my friend swore by it.  He considered it a necessity.

 

If and when he gets married, will he abdicate any role in the choice of toilet paper?  I find that hard to believe, but it is possible.  Or maybe he and I would be the two out of the ten.  Who knows? 

 

Or maybe the survey isn’t capturing the whole story.  By not commenting on the choice of toilet paper — by not stating that a different type of toilet paper should be purchased – the husbands are involved in the decision.  The person buying the toilet paper (in most cases, the wife) may be making the initial decision on her own, but by using the toilet paper without complaint, the other spouse is tacitly agreeing that the toilet paper is satisfactory, making it a shared decision.  That’s the way I’d like to look at it: as a shared decision and evidence of wedded bliss.

 

All this talk of toilet paper reminds me of a book idea I had shortly after college.  One element of it focused on a poetry concept I called  “toilet haiku,” a melding of high and low brow.  (I didn’t say it was a good idea.)  Here’s a small sampling:

            Smooth white porcelain,

            The sounds of gushing water,

            Soft, soothing echo.

 

For those living in the lap of luxury, a poem I called “Bidet”:

            Beautiful fountain,

            Gently tickling buttocks,

            Washing all away.

 

And for the solitary, thinking person, “Stalled”:

            Sitting quietly,

            Behind partitions thinking,

            Cut off from the world.

  

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

God Bless the Child

My son Luke, 19 months, has reached the extremely entertaining linguistic stage of putting words together into short phrases and simple sentences.  He says the words quickly and often under his breath, with no separation between them.  It’s adorable.  Written words don’t really do his expressions justice (but that won’t stop me from trying to describe them.)

 

Initially, these first attempts at speech are unintelligible, except to parents (if anyone.)  They slowly but surely become clearer and clearer.  It’s always fun to hear another family member or friend say with surprise, “Did he just say ‘(insert expression here)’?” 

 

Yes he did.  Yes he did.  (It’s a proud moment.)

 

One of my son’s first expressions was an attempt at “I want to go with you.”  If it looks like we’re going anywhere, or if he wants to be picked up and carried, he walks over with his arms spread wide, pleading, “gowitzou, gowitzou.”

 

It’s adorable, and he’s adding more and more phrases to his repertoire.

 

The latest: blessyou.  (Did I mention that key words often get omitted?  Sorry, God.)

 

If someone coughs, sneezes, sniffles, blows a nose, clears a throat… 

            blessyou.

 

We can’t help but react, and Luke eats it up.  We’ve created a monster (a ‘monster’ that looks for the slightest excuse to bless people.)  His sister’s the same way with a punch line or turn-of-phrase that gets a good laugh.  She’ll repeat it days later with an impish grin on her face as she waits for the reaction.

 

Luke’s procilivity for blessing people is consistent with his affinity for saying grace and for shaking hands during the exchange of peace at church.  When we sit down to eat, he’ll reach out his hands and repeat “Grace? Grace?”  For awhile, he tried to initiate grace several times a meal.  If he had his way, we would have been saying grace five or six times per sitting.

 

When we go to church for mass, he anxiously awaits the exchange of peace and the opportunity to shake hands with as many people as possible.  Unfortunately, he’s in a heavy drooling stage, and his hand is sometimes in close proximity to his mouth.  Yesterday, as I was exchanging peace with Karen and Charlotte, he was already reaching out to the people behind us with his saliva-covered hand.  He exchanged a little more than peace.  Oh well. 

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’  (Luke would have preceded his serving with grace.)

Voting, Missing Cookies, and ‘Peanuts’

Two days ago, we voted as a family.  Karen and I take a great deal of pride in teaching our kids the importance of civic engagement, so the four of us piled into the car and drove to the local elementary school, our voting station.  Our country really does seem to have this voting thing down.  Our polling station was convenient and efficient.  We were in, we voted, and we were out. 

 

I did miss the local Girls Scout troop that sold cookies in the lobby last year.  What could be more American than exercising our right to vote followed by a thin mint, trefoil, and samoa (or caramel delight, depending on the packaging.)  But alas (or ‘a lass’), there were none this year.  Oh well.

 

After voting, we watched the Peanuts special You’re Not Elected, Charlie Brown, potentially the least appreciated of the Charlie Brown specials.  A bonus feature on the dvd of It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, it’s a great lesson in politics and covers polling, electability, and scandal (Linus nearly torpedoes his chances when he declares his belief in the Great Pumpkin during the debate and his polls plummet.)

 

While my kids are only one and three, I’d like to think they have begun developing an appreciation for democracy.  How great if President-elect Obama is really the transformational politician and president he aspires to be?  What a powerful lesson to all kids on the power of voting – to see a candidate make a significant impact on the life of our country and its citizens.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

The ‘Marry’ Dress

In our house, playing ‘dress up’ isn’t limited to Halloween.  It’s a year round activity.  Our kids absolutely love dress ups.  We have an extensive collection, including pink frilly skirts, a turtle shell, fire fighter and safari hats, a pirate patch and hook, a knight helmet, doctor’s apparel… and the list goes on.

 

Charlotte loves putting on skirts and spinning and dancing.  Whenever dance music comes on, she’ll stop and declare, “I need my skirt,” then march off to get it.

 

Her favorite skirt is a pink and yellow one with flowers (which she pulls on over whatever she’s wearing) and a matching headpiece with streamer-like material hanging off it.  She calls it her ‘marry’ dress and often announces that she’s getting married when she’s wearing it.  She’s very excited about the prospect of getting married (I’d like to think it’s because Karen and I make it look so fun) and talks about it frequently

 

The other day when her aunt, uncle, and cousin were visiting, she put on her ‘marry’ dress, began dancing, and proudly told her uncle that she was getting married. 

 

“Who are you marrying?” he asked.  Charlotte was stumped.

 

She then did what she usually does when someone asks her a question and she doesn’t know the answer.  She thought about it, lowered her head, walked over to me, and quietly asked, “Dad, who am I marrying?”

 

Oh, if I only had the power to decide when and whom she would marry.  Then again, what an immense responsibility it would be to choose anyone else’s spouse, particularly my own child’s.

             

I pray that she does find someone worthy of her love (and who loves her in the way she deserves to be loved) and that she does choose to get married (my marriage has brought me so much joy, including my two children.) 

 

And I look forward with great anticipation to her potential wedding.  When we attend weddings, I often daydream about what Charlotte and Luke’s weddings will be like (if they so choose).  My favorite moment is the father-daughter dance.  I won’t deny it, I get very emotional – it makes me think of the moment that Charlotte and I will dance together at her wedding, if she chooses to get married (and chooses to dance with me at her wedding.)   I’ve already given a lot of thought to potential songs.  But that’s another story

 

Lately, she’s been insisting that she’ll marry her brother.  When I informed her that she couldn’t, she replied, “But Dad, I have a ‘marry’ dress.”  She insists she’s getting married because, after all, she does have a “marry” dress.

 

If only life was so simple — if having a ‘marry’ dress meant you were getting married, putting on an eye patch made you a pirate, and wearing a baseball jersey meant you’d play professional baseball.

 

Imagine if it worked that way – if you could become a superhero simply by putting on a cape!

 

The nice thing is, in the eyes of my kids, I feel like I don’t even need a cape.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

Oh, bee-hive…

Halloween was definitely a big hit with our two kids last night.  ‘Worker bee’ (aka Luke) wouldn’t let go of his candy bag.  We were out for an hour and a half, and his little pumpkin was getting pretty heavy, but he refused to relinquish it.

 

And as for ‘princess bee’ (aka Charlotte)… well, the following exchange says everything:

            Princess Bee: I want to be a princess bee forever.

            Queen Bee/Mom:  Well, the costume is going to get too small before long.

            Princess Bee: But we can get a bigger one…

 

We met up with a couple of other families from the neighborhood and had a great time.  Our motley crew of trick or treaters included a jellyfish, Blade, a vampire tooth fairy (one costume), a fire fighter, a tiger, a ladybug, an additional bee, a Native American, and one or two others that escape me at the moment.

 

Karen was a ‘queen bee,’ and I went as a ‘spelling bee’ (bee antennae, black pants, bright yellow shirt with ‘spelling bee’ related words and questions all over it.)  Plus, Aunt Jen came as a bee, too. 

 

It was a great Halloween.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese’ (hopefully, while eating a little bit of Halloween candy.)