Two Months of Lurve

10 months of shock has led to 2 months of joy, exhaustion and a lot of screaming (the baby, not me).  I wasn't sure I really wanted a third baby or that I would love him, but let me tell you that as he takes his (relatively) large hands and grasps the neck of my shirt and holds on or flashes a gummy grin or his special baby scent floods my nose during those late night feeding sessions, love him I do.  Following the trend of his brother and sister, he is skinny--10 pounds, 8 ounces--in the 10th percentile, but fear not because he has a giant noggin like his brother--95th percentile and is 24.25 inches long, the 75th percentile.  Now that we know I make skinny babies there is less cause for alarm, more embracing of this special soul in which we have been entrusted.  Did I mention he's phenomenally cute? Yep.  See for yourself.  AND he's meeting all his milestones.  Rolling, smiling and cooing.

THAT House.

Yes.  Another Halloween post.  The catch is that this time I'm worried that neighborhood might be in jeopardy.  As the title of my blog suggests, we live in a run of the mill, average middle class neighborhood.  I feel completely comfortable going door-to-door trick-or-treating. . . .

Until we got to that house.  Only I didn't know it was that house until it was too late and the confused hermit was staring at my perfectly adorable three year-old.  The picture--random angel water fountain next to the front door, but without accompanying landscape or color of any kind.  A small square area blocked off next to the door with a homemade cardboard sign sporting chicken scratch with "deliveries here."  (Only later would I be suspect of why someone wanted their packages hidden, when the front porch wasn't especially visible from the street anyway. I think that's where bomb-making equipment might be delivered.) Back to the moment.  We knocked because, after all, the porch light was on.  The wall(s) of DVDs actually caught my eye before the person answering the door commanded my attention.  Average-sized Asian male with athletic shorts.  Not crazy or suspicious when considered alone.  But the tucked-in Garfield t-shirt with the athletic shorts pulled half-way to his armpits was cause for concern.  Square glasses straight from my grandfather's bedside table. . . in 1986.  The candy was in a metal pot.  And then, then, I noticed that the entire living area visible from the front door was covered by computer and electronic equipment.  And did I mention there was no welcoming smile or even a "you're welcome" to my three-year old's thank you? Creeptastic.

I didn't suspect there was a crazy internet crime mastermind was in my very.own.neighborhood.  And that is how that house became that house.  Its own unintended Halloween spectacle.

It's Serious. Requisite Halloween Post

We've been counting down the days.  Not for a week, not for a month, for a YEAR.  Elliott has been in LOVE with Halloween since our last trick-or-treating expedition.  It was a success.  Until the tiny baby lost his sh*t.  Good timing because quickly after Elliott began plopping on the sidewalk saying, "I'm tired.  Carry me, Mommy."  And as soon as we got home, our fairy princess stated, "Nigh, nigh."

*We had a great time, despite all the serious-face pics.  

Glammy & Poppy came to trick-or-treat, too.

Beautiful fairy princess.

Serious tiger.  My whisker-drawing skills are limited.

Rawr.

It was a spectator sport for Brooklyn.  One of these days she will be convinced she can walk.