Breakfast nook table, covered by a tablecloth. At opposite ends sit Roman and Beatrix. Ro finishes his lunch, leaving behind on his plate some untouched toast. Beatrix, not given to a long-distance relationship with unwanted food, grabs the tablecloth and starts to pull Roman’s plate and drink toward her. And, in less than 15 seconds, she’s got herself a toasty new friend.
So, a few months ago we asked Ro what he wanted to be for Halloween this year. He pondered for a few moments then said, “Yoda.” Yoda? We didn’t even know how he knew about Yoda – but Yoda it was. Sarah mail-ordered him a cool little Yoda outfit. To fit the theme, a friend of hers let us borrow a Princess Leia outfit for Bebe.
Of course neither worked out.
Ro wasn’t too into his Yoda mask so he just wore the Jedi robes and was a young (way young) Obi-Wan, as played by a young (way young) Ewan McGregor:
The Leia outfit dwarfed Bebe, so we had a backup pumpkin outfit for her (which I will search Sarah’s camera for a photo – I didn’t have one on mine).
So we dressed the kids up for their Parents As Teachers play group and went trick-or-treating there. Fun times.
Come Halloween night and Bebe’s sick. She sleeps through the chaos that is Halloween in Westheight Manor. And once Ro saw Sarah’s makeup kit he said forget Yoda, forget jedis. I’m going to be a maniac replicant:
Sarah painted her face up nice and purty and took Ro around the neighborhood before coming back to help me hand out candy to children too scared to come up to our door (where I awaited in a cloud of smoke in a skeletal mask with a voice modulator – and a bottle of beer hidden behind the door).
save for a green glow in the corner indicating the baby monitor is on and doing its job.
A box fan near our feet hums on low-speed, blowing air at a wall, away from the baby crib. She likes the sound but we should probably start to ween her from it.
3:30 in the AM. She’s been waking this early for a couple weeks now, wanting to be feed. She fusses for about 1/2 prior then really comes alive to let you know it’s time to eat.
But she’s calmed easily enough with a warm, full bottle. She likes to hold it herself now…big girl.
So she’s not crying. She’s just kind of grunting (like she does) and twirling the bottle around. She’s not fussing and we’re both drifting in and out, rocking in our chair.
Though she’s not crying, this song still pops into my head:
and I lullabize it for her. And it’s a surprisingly solid lullabization. Were I a capable musician I would put some of these to tape, especially the ones that work better than expected. I’m shocked I recall the lyrics as well as I do, and it’s a good and creepy tune – the way good lullabies (and children’s stories) should be (see Rock-A-Bye, Baby).
Soon she falls asleep, not likely due to The Lullaby of Oz, but asleep nonetheless. I place her back in her crib and pat her bottom for a couple of seconds to smooth over the transition. I turn to leave, jumping over the middle part of the room to avoid creaking floorboards, and tip-toe out the door and back to bed, that deep, dark, bass line underscoring the short trip.
So, Ro’s no longer into veggies. Anything green and sitting on his plate goes by the name, “Yucky”. Today, I pointed at some new potatoes and asked him what they were. His reply: “Poo-poo”. To one-up him, yesterday I put Finding Nemo in the player and let him watch while I steamed broccoli. After the steamage, I used our Pampered Chef Mega Chop-o-matic to mince the broccoli into a fine powder. Whenceforth came the deviousity: I then made a grilled cheese sandwich (I make ’em yum) and before putting on the top slice of bread, I slathered on a rather thick layer of my china flake broccoli. Grilled to perfection and dripping cheese, I sliced ‘er up and served to my unsuspecting son. He got about half a sandwich in him before pulling apart the bread, seeing the green, declaring “Yucky”, looking at the rest of his sandwich, taking a drink of water, and saying “I done. I want Nemo.”
Today, whilst on poop watch, Momma Bear confirmed traces of green.