Yesterday was a deliciously warm fall day.  It was also one of those rare days when we had nothing in particular to do. There are not enough of those days in a life.

We shared a plate of eggs and toast at IHOP, we went over to a friend’s house and played, we had a nap and then we went on a “tway-sure” hunt at a local park.

When you are an almost-four-year-old boy, there are a lot of treasures waiting to be found.

“Oh look Mom at this beautiful leaf!”

“An acorn! Let’s take it home and plant it.”

“This rock is pretty!”

And it all goes into the pocket.

Snips and snails, dirty pockets and dirty fingernails, carefree autumn days — if only I could put these things in my pocket.

Today was Sean’s Halloween/Fall Festival party at his school.  I was in charge of supplying the party napkins and would like to report that I did not screw that up.  Just to make sure that I would not mess up my assignment, I bought four times as many napkins as was reasonably required and then I sent them a week before the party.  Which was also when I sent Sean to school dressed as a pirate.  A week before the party. 

In Sean’s permanent file at the school, there is probably a note saying that Sean’s mother should never be trusted with anything more complicated than party napkins.  The up side to being fairly incompetent is that no one will ask me to be in charge of anything other than party napkins.

Some of the parents dressed up in costume which made me think “Yay for you, you costume wearing moms who have costumes!”   I went as a mom who just came from the gym and needed a shower and didn’t know where to stand.    

I did get a chance to visit with Sean’s teacher who told me that Sean informs her that I give him money every time he goes poo poo on the potty and that he is saving up for a puppy, which is not  true.  I am making him save up for college, not a puppy.

At first I was concerned that he was telling tall tales, but then I decided that it probably works in my favor as it will make the other things he tells the teacher about me less believable.

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Clearly, the success of the party is owed to the abundance of the festive party napkins as seen in the photo.

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I didn’t see the resemblance at the time…

As we were driving to the store earlier in the week, Sean points out the window and shrieks, “Oh Mommy! Look at that beautiful garden!”

Garden?  How is it I’ve driven down this street a million times and never noticed a beautiful garden?

I craned my neck to see where he was pointing. It was a cemetery.

“Can we go there some day?” he asked innocently.

I know a couple who have a child buried in that cemetery.  Their faces filled the movie screen of my mind.  For a split second I imagined myself in their shoes, standing in that beautiful garden, facing the unthinkable, the unbearable.

 “Sure sweetie, we can go there sometime,” I said, my voice cracking and sounding unnaturally cheerful. “Sure we can.”

And then the conversation veered around the corner on two-wheels as only it can with a three-year-old in the car.

“Mommy, why do pirate ships have diving boards?”

I’m still thinking about my friends.

“Mommy! Why do pirate ships have diving boards?”

I’m jarred away from one grave to another.

“Because they like to go swimming.”

For that moment, that was the best answer I could come up with.  And technically not a lie.

My friend Jeanna wrote this funny funny post today about acupuncture.  Go get your funny bone tickled.

So we went to the pumpkin patch last week and came home with two pumpkins. 

I picked out a lovely perfectly rounded unblemished beauty. So stunning was this pumpkin that it could have been a coach for Cinderella.

Sean picked an oddly shaped, tall, skinny lop-sided pumpkin.  I pointed out its flaws, that it had a bad case of acne and couldn’t stand up straight.  But he didn’t care.  He pleaded his case saying it was a good pumpkin — that he loved it and it was the only pumpkin for him.  He didn’t see that it was ugly.   May he continue to see the world this way, as one who doesn’t look at the outside but only sees the good in a pumpkin.

As soon as we got home, he immediately wanted to get busy carving up those pumpkins, even though I told him they wouldn’t last long once they were carved.  And in typical three-year-old fashion, he would not be deterred by logic — even after I dispelled the visions of knife wielding dancing in his head when I informed him his job would be to pull out the seeds.

 After I cut the top off the first pumpkin, I told him to reach in and start pulling out all the seeds being very careful not to use the word guts.  “No thanks!” he said pinching his nose. “It’s stinky and icky.  I just want to do the fun stuff.”  And then he ran away to play until the fun stuff started happening.  I love his honesty. I may use that line on him the next time he calls me in the bathroom to wipe his little stinky icky behind.

When “we” were done carving up our pumpkins, I put tea light candles in each one and lit them and then turned down the lights.  I called Sean in to see our jack-o-lanterns in all their glowing glory. “Ooooh!” he said, “That’s inter-westing!”  And then he scrambled up on a chair and blew the candles out. And then I lit them. And he blew them out. And I lit them and this went on for many many rounds and again the next day and the next.  Apparently this was the fun stuff to which he was referring.

After about three days, the jack-o-lanterns began to shrivel and take on a peculiar smell as all beautiful and ugly things eventually do and so they were removed to the trashcan. 

We enjoyed the pumpkins immensely during their short tenure here at the House of Antique and in return they enjoyed a full 15 minutes of flame – in about 900 one-second intervals.

When my dad retired about 15 years ago, along with wood crafting and front porch sitting, he took up metal detecting.  It’s been a great way for him to be out and about, get some exercise and occasionally bring home a treasure or two. 

He keeps a tally of his findings and on average he digs up a couple of hundred dollars in loose change every year.  He also digs up a shoebox full of Hot Wheels cars which he cleans up and gives away to grandkids or neighborhood kids or any other kid he happens to come across.

One morning last week, the weather was still nice so Dad decided he would go metal detecting one last time before it gets too cold.

He was walking in a familiar and well travelled area, near a school and across from a church, when he noticed a teenage boy walking towards him.  For whatever reason, he got a bad vibe and decided to head for his car. The kid came up to my dad and asked him for some money. My dad said “no” and kept walking. The kid grabbed at him.  My dad swung his metal detector and whacked him good upside the head, hard enough that it busted a chunk off the base.  My dad lost his balance and fell backwards to the ground. At that point, the criminal got up, pointed a gun at my dad and demanded his wallet.  Of course my dad handed it over. The kid took the cash, all of $21, threw the wallet down and ran off.

Since I found out about this incident, I have been sick to my stomach thinking of what could have happened. And I have also been thanking God over and over and over for what didn’t happen.

My dad twisted his back when he fell, but other than that he is no worse for the wear. He is 76 years old and for all intents and purposes he kicked that kid’s ass and I take pleasure in that.  A lot of pleasure.

I suppose I should be praying for that kid, that he will turn from his evil ways, but what I really find in my heart right now is the desire that he rot in hell.  When you mess with my kid or my parents all bets are off.

I am a Christian, just not a very good one.

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When Antique Daddy saw these pictures from our recent visit to the pumpkin patch, he said it reminded him of this story.

Sean is really into Melissa & Doug floor puzzles these days.  We have a growing library of puzzles of increasing complexity and it’s fascinating to sit on the floor and watch the mind of a three-year-old work through the reasoning that is required to complete a puzzle. 

Our current favorite puzzle is a 100-piece depiction of Noah and the animals exiting the ark.  Sean can work it without too much assistance which impresses his mother mightily.  Of course his mother is also impressed with how he inhales and exhales and blinks.  So then, that is to say, I’m easily impressed when it comes to my boy.

The other night we were sitting on the floor putting together this puzzle when Sean picked out the piece with Noah’s foot on it and examined it closely.   He passed it to me and said, “Look Mom.  Noah wore flip flops.”

Indeed he did.  And he wore a dress too.

Updated below!

I want to buy a house in my neighborhood for Planet Nomad and have coffee with her every morning and force her to be my BFF.  I love her and the reasons are just too many to list.  Find out why for yourself, but start with this post from today.

Edited:

In my post yesterday, I mentioned that I liked Planet Nomad for more reasons than I could list. In comments, Amanda asked me what some of those reasons were.  Here is a short list of blog qualities I appreciate:

Blogs I enjoy are:  smart, funny, wry, real, unique perspective, thoughtful, clean, well-written (proper usage of English and punctuation).

Blogs I enjoy are not:  mean, vulgar, constant rants without a point, constantly negative, superficially positive, preachy, boring.

Planet Nomad and Toddled Dredge are two blogs (among others) that embody these qualities and make my heart quicken when I see them listed in bold in my Bloglines.

Other than the blogs listed in my Blog Candy, have you found any blogs I might enjoy?