Call It What You Want...

We've made it halfway through the Thanksgiving holiday weekend with little drama... It's been a good time. I thought I would include a few Thanksgiving tales to get you through a few days. As if everyone is yearning for another post from me. Ha ha. (Well, maybe just mom.)




For our first exhibit, I present Pilgrim and Native American (complete with Dutch klompfen), preparing for a truly memorable Thanksgiving feast (a few days early).


Here is Mr. "Yes, You May Take My Picture" before Thanksgiving Eve service at church. Mark was not in the mood to join his brother for a handsome boys photo, so you just get one.

That angelic face brings us into other joys of Thanksgiving...




We had Thanksgiving Dinner at home (as you can tell by our fancy china and glassware)... I made turkey, sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberries, mashed potatoes and gravy from scratch, and had help with the stuffing (Stove Top), rolls (packaged) and pumpkin pie (refrigerated crust, pie made from scratch with help from boys).

The true Thanksgiving miracle was that, while they might not have eaten mightily, neither boy complained about the food put before him, and Mark actually ate some of everything on his plate. Amazing.

Today the boys went with Tim to some stores (they were not up and shopping at 4 a.m. -- more like 10). At Home Depot, they met up with Santa Claus, sat on his lap, and told him what they wanted. Mark, of course, reported back that he told him he wanted a Lego Crane (Grandma can feel pleased in what he will be getting).
Adam told Santa what he wanted. Santa glanced at Daddy and said, "What did he say he wanted?"
Mark stepped in for the save: "He said he wants a Statue of Liberty."

Yes. Adam is still quite adamant. Other Christmas wishes may have changed, but one thing has remained the same: Adam wants a Statue of Liberty for Christmas.

I don't know why.

One very nice thing about Tim being home is that I get to do other projects. Here is what I have worked on the past couple of days:


A close inspection will reveal that the print here is train cars of all kinds. The fabric was given to me -- given. That's right, given -- by a Conner P mom whose boys have outgrown their train obsessions, leaving her with too much train fabric left. I was sewing clothing for one of her boys, and she told me she had this stuff and would I like it? The front, you see. The back is the train fabric. The batting is cotton/bamboo, and it's put together with spray-on quilting adhesive to hold it together (and safety pins) until I can quilt it.

This is for Adam's big boy bed -- when it arrives. He is still in his toddler bed for now, but when the time comes, he will have a bedspread and (if all goes well) a valance for his window as well. Thanks, Mrs. S., for the fabric!!! :)

Okay, that's all for now. More later. Good night!

Doggy's Old Poem (by Mark) (do the lines in iambic, and you've got it):

He was walking through the store
And he saw a big saw.
He wanted to buy it
But he couldn't buy it at all.

Not sure where it came from, but Mark decided to make up this poem in the car today.
I guess I do know; I made reference to the James Whitcomb Riley poem, "When the frost is on the punkin"... as it was a frosty and foggy morning. And this is what he came up with -- not just old poets can make up old poems, apparently.

I think it's time to lay down some uncontested rules for appropriate behavior at the table during meals, so the little darlings will know for what they are being fined when I start levying fees. *
 (* These fines go into a jar marked "Mommy's Money" and when there's enough in there, I get to go buy myself some ice cream.)

So.
Here are the rules.
1. Thank God.
2. No kicking.

3. No pushing or pulling. (This is a problem when someone shoves the table and hits the other in the chest, trapping him against seat and table in an uncomfortable position. This is also a problem when suddenly the table is pulled away from a boy who is eating because his brother saw fit to give it a mighty tug.)



4. No blocking. (Think "Talk to the hand" or something. This is one of the most horrifyingly evil things a brother can do to the other -- hold his hand up, palm facing the brother, thus "blocking" one from the other. It's cause for hysteria.)



Now that you know the rules, you can come have a meal with us.
See you soon!

Friday dawned with driving rain. Mark was highly distressed. "I don't want it to be raining on Halloween!" he said, offended.

"Halloween isn't until tomorrow. We have time for the rain to stop."

He was not convinced. He went through the rainy Friday fretting about the weather not shaping up for him. He should not have feared. Saturday was perfect from sunrise until well after sunset -- not too warm (Halloween is supposed to be crisp, after all), but not so cold that a jacket under the costume wouldn't suffice.

The boys were adorable.

Mark chose to be a firefighter again (third year running -- he likes what he likes, and I like not having to come up with a costume).

Adam didn't want to be "anyfing" but after some consideration, agreed to be Bob the Builder. All the ingredients were around the house: a pair of overalls (he eschews them generally, but was willing to wear them for the day), a plaid shirt of Mark's (big enough to fit over his jacket), hard hat and tools fitted into one of Mark's belts.

Highlights:

* An autistic neighbor boy, seeing Adam in costume, started singing the Bob the Builder theme song. He was still singing it later when we saw him again. He was very excited by it.

* A group of neighbors had set up a block party on their cul-de-sac, complete with fire pits and candy all around the circle. They were also sharing supper together and having a great time (what a great idea!).

* Buckets full of candy. Wow.

* Awesome pumpkins carved by Tim, the king of pumpkin carving. This year we had a steamroller and a train engine.

Here are the intrepid trick-or-treaters, ready to go.
(Please note the pliers, ready to fall out of the belt. They did, within three houses, but when we went back, we found them.)