Trick-or-treating was pretty much the high point of Harry's life so far. As you can see, it pays to live in a neighborhood with very few small children. We knew it was time to go home when his bucket was so heavy he could not carry it on his own.
No post-treat picture of Harry, who shed his costume and smeared himself from chin to thigh with Hershey bars the moment he burst back through our door. But here is our top banana with his scepter.
**Tangent** While I am writing this, Harry is playing a really involved game with some of Jack's baby toys (which have become the best toys in the house in Harry's eyes ever since Jack stated to show an interest in them) that consists of him repeating 2 things: "Somebody's in trouble" and "I am Spartacus." What the heck?
It's NaBloPoMo, and I wish I could participate. Every year I say I will and then every year I realize that I need to finish my frigging dissertation, not post on my blog everyday. But this year, I am have come to the sad realization that I've been finishing my dissertation for years.
Another sad realization? I talk too much while getting my hair cut-- definitely use my eye brows too much during the critical bang-trimming moment. Note the slope. Also, yes, Harry has a blow pop, too. He also watches lots of cartoons. Sometimes while he eats blow pops.
Even though he has a couple inches to go before he's too big for his infant seat, Jack has started sitting up in shopping carts.
Clearly, he is dumbfounded by produce
The 2 cart thing is a little inconvenient. Also, it's weird that the grocery store deli is a place to capture memories, huh? I think Nipples in the green shirt thought so, too.