Halloween Pants

Given his love of the sport, I assumed that Patrick would love to be a basketball for Halloween. But the truth is that the poor kid looked as pregnant as me when we put the costume on him, and even the attempted bribe of an ice cream cone was not enough to convince him to give it a shot. We did get one picture (thanks Dinah and Josh) before abandoning six weeks of my handiwork to the stroller at the Del Ray Halloween parade.

There is one part of the costume that Patrick adores, much to Donald’s dismay: the tight black leggings I bought him to wear under the basketball. Patrick thinks these are his “Halloween pants” and wore them happily for the rest of the day, noting that cousin Sophie was also wearing Halloween pants (black tights) under her bumble bee costume.

Once I got over the heartache of an unloved costume and the further indignation of someone remarking on our nice “pumpkin” costume we had a great time. After the prize winners were announced Patrick caused quite a stir in our immediate vicinity with his unique dancing moves: his shoulder shrug, trademark elbow pump, and pivoting around on one foot.

Later, at home, Patrick and Sophie cracked each other up playing peek-a-boo with dish towels and bouncing on a chair. We got a kick out of hearing Patrick explain his “prizes” to Sophie as he told her all about the wonders of Chuck E. Cheese. Look out Aunt Jen and Uncle Derek, the mouse tolls for thee.

Pumpkin Patch Field Trip

Donald and I "chaperoned" our one charge, Patrick, at Burke Farms for Patrick's first field trip on Friday. We did a hayride through a haunted forest, slid down some awesome slides, saw animals, and dug up some prizes—plastic spiders—from a big sand mountain. The kids all looked adorable in their purple "Abracadabra" shirts, and we loved watching them interact with each other. Then we watched in amazement as Patrick ate two hot dogs for lunch before heading home for nap.

Big Boy Bed

Patrick's "big boy" mattresses arrived the other day and when he got home from school we put everything together: sports-themed sheets and quilt, basketball and football pillows. Patrick was delighted with the sheets, and excitedly pointed out all of the elements to us: "football and basketball and soccer ball and baseball and star and football and basketball and...." If the new bed wasn't enough to convince us we have a bona fide big boy on our hands his recent love of "race cars" is. "I'm gonna vroom them," he tells us as they go zipping off the coffee table, but he carefully keeps track of them too (he has four); they rest on his night table at night, come down in the morning to usually accompany breakfast, and often times sneak into the pocket of his backpack to come with him to school. I've even seen him stuff them into his pants pockets, where I also recently uncovered a sizable handful of pebbles from the playground.

The Giddle Song

Yesterday we were singing songs and Patrick told me he wanted to sing "The Giddle Song." I figured it was something he'd learned at school so I asked him to sing it to me. Then I heard something familiar...he was singing "The Good Old Song," which is what UVA sings after a touchdown. He wanted to hear it again and again, and listened to me with fist ready to pump in the air for cheering at the end. It really hit me how much these little things that Donald and I take for granted impact him, and how much he is picking up cues from us. He absolutely loves going to football games, even though he has only been to one other that I imagine he can remember. He loves to dance to the band, see Cav Man, get m&ms from Gran T, and go in the moon bounce at the fan fest. He's quickly seized on the football jersey as his top of choice. He wore it to school two days in a row last week and apparently told everyone he was going to a football game. He spotted some players on ESPN and told me "the big boys are wearing football jerseys just like me." And he loves giving Donald fashion advice, which consists of going to Donald's closet, looking at all of his orange shirts (which hang together) and insisting that he wear his football jerseys too. Every day.

Say Cheese, You Ham

After two years, and a very frustrating period of studiously avoiding looking at my camera, Patrick is finally picking up on saying "cheese." He even got a little carried away with his posing as I was testing my awesome new flash attachment. The "reclining" shot reminds Donald of the George Costanza underwear shoot on Seinfeld.

Birthday With Chuck

Who would have thought that after three and half decades I would be spending my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese? The minute we pulled into the parking lot Patrick spotted the unmistakable mouse (rat?) on the sign and could barely contain himself—"There's Chuck!, There's Chuck!" We played a bunch of games, had a pizza party, slapped high-fives with the mouse himself, and won "prizes:" three lollipops and a miniature basketball toy. Hanging out with your favorite people is a pretty perfect way to spend a birthday, no matter where you are.