Here comes Trouble!

It's not even December 1st, and we've put up the Christmas tree. Quite a feat for a family where there's always a mad rush on Christmas Eve to get last minute gifts. But we promised Devlin the tree would get decorated after the Santa Claus parade. We saw the big jolly fellow in red on the weekend. All the other homes on our block are decorated. Can't risk looking like the Grinch. So, after dinner, we went about putting up the tired looking tree and tried to decorate.

I know we've always put up a tree every Christmas, but I can't ever remember it being such a challenge as this year. Between over-eager hands and shortening parental tempers, there were a few breakages. But the most troublesome factor was Aisling. Every ornament that went up was touched and pulled off. The breakable ornaments went way up on the tree, out of her reach. (Tree looks top-heavy.) The plastic ornaments bounced on the floors really well, much to Aisling's delight who clapped with glee. After chasing one too many ornaments across the floor, we decided to leave off a third of our ornaments. Thinking back, I should have predicted this. It was the lure of the ornaments last Christmas that got our little baby crawling - towards the tree - and reaching up to bat at the ornaments, much like a cat!

Aisling is 18 months old!

Aisling turned 18 months old yesterday. We didn't mark the day with any special event. In fact, it wasn't until the end of the day, that we realized the significance of the date. That's what happens when you have more than one child - you stop marking the "month" anniversaries. You forget to write down when the child starts to crawl, take their first step, try a new food. I've tried to note down some of the big milestones in the first year of each child's life. A special baby's first year calendar helps, along with stickers for silly occasions like "first laugh", "first trip to grandparents" and the one sticker we never used - "slept through night".
But let's get back to Aisling, who at 18 months has established herself as the most vocal family member. If I get ready to leave the house without kissing her, she runs after me, shouting "Mama" while turning her face up for a kiss. When I arrive home each night, she greets me with a big smile and tries to help me take off my jacket. If she hears anyone mention the words "Time to go" she runs to the door and gets her shoes.
She insists on having her turn to speak with whomever is on the phone. "Talk, talk" she says as she reaches for the phone. (This may come in handy for the telemarketers who call.) She does not toddle - she runs. She is starting to insist on walking down the stairs instead of crawling. But the stairs to the basement - she slides down.
I've mentioned before that Aisling is the most adventurous eater. She loves nori - the roasted seaweed that's used to wrap sushi (called paper in our home). She's also discovered a liking for hummus. Of course, potato chips still top her list, and now she's discovered the hiding place for such treats! The other night, when someone mentioned "chips", she ran to the cupboard, and reached in, behind all the other obstacles, and triumphantly pulled out the half-eaten bag.
Last night, the bath water was drawn and the two older kids were splashing in the tub. Usually, Aisling is the first to race up the stairs when she hears the water running. No Aisling anywhere near the tub. Where was she? I found her downstairs, playing with Ceilidh's toys and trying on Ceilidh's sparkly princess shoes. Hilarious. When I tried to take a picture of her with the sparkly shoes, Aisling quickly looked up and grinned, with her head tilted, clearly posing for the photo.
I know my little preemie baby is getting older. She will now sit for a bed time story or two. If you ask her to find her soother/jacket/bottle, she will. She loves to drink water from daddy's water bottle. She insists on walking everywhere. When we went to the zoo on the weekend, she walked while the other two opted to ride in the chariot. She still won't sit to watch Baby Einstein, but gleefully pointed out the animals at the zoo. Even tried to chase after the peacock that was strutting around the snack bar.
Her vocabulary is slowly starting to expand. But even without words, she expresses her love with her wet kisses, her big smiles and her running hugs. After returning home from the emergency room with Devlin, I crawled into bed next to a soundly sleeping Aisling. In her sleep, she curled into me, and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and snuggled.
Aisling - it's been an exciting 18 months, and I know this is just the beginning!

A very rough 24 hours for Devlin

It's been rough going for Devlin - but he's finally napping peacefully now. Yesterday afternoon, while tidying up the basement which is what they do every afternoon, Ceilidh and Devlin were horsing around. Also per usual. Except, Ceilidh picked up the handle from Daddy's exercise machine and threw it. Unfortunately, Devlin's head was in its pathway. He ended up with a small gash, just above his left eye. I'm sure there were lots of tears and blood. I wasn't home when it happened, but when I walked in the door some 4o minutes later, Devlin had stopped crying. The wound was no longer bleeding, but it was evident that the skin had broken. Ceilidh mentioned nothing of the incident while Devlin poured forth details and details of his injury.
It was bit of history repeating itself as I recalled a time when my sister Shunaha received stitches to her forehead, courtesy of our brother Bill.
Off we went to the walk-in clinic. After a 30 minute wait with a restless 5 year old, we were ushered into see the doctor on duty. Who happened to be my family doctor, and a good friend of my sister's. He took a quick peek and advised that skin glue (kind of like krazy glue for skin) would do a great job of minimizing any potential scar. For his own child, he would opt for the glue rather than sutures. Unfortunately, clinics don't stock glue, so off we went to the nearest emergency room.
The last time I visited the emergency room, it was very long wait. Dreading the interminable wait ahead of us, we stopped at home to pick up Daddy, books and toys for entertainment and to say good night to the girls. It was pretty late, and now Devlin was hungry. He was no longer complaining about the boo-boo on his head, but about the stomach pains because he was so hungry. This is one of those times you're grateful for having made the decision to hire a live-in nanny. We were able to leave our girls with Novelyn, knowing they would be fed, bathed and put to bed without us having to worry about it, so we could concentrate on Devlin.
While we answered the routine questions, got registered, gave assurances that no one in our family was displaying flu-like symptoms, and the flu was NOT the reason for the ER visit, Daddy went in search of food.
We finally made it to the ER waiting room and handed over the charts. There weren't many patients ahead of us, and it seemed like people were being seen fairly quickly. Hope that we wouldn't be there that long started to grow. Then it died as there was first 20 minutes, then 30, then 45, then 75 minutes before anyone else was allowed to enter the "treatment areas". The sign "Please take a seat. The nurse will be with you shortly" mocked us every time we looked at the clock. I began to wonder if the definition of "shortly" had evolved into "sometime in the next 12-18 hours". Daddy and I took turns reading stories and playing with Devlin. The waiting area became more populated as walk-in clinic hours ended for the evening. We watched Dancing with the Stars, House, Castle. And still no one called Devlin's name. And we watched the clock, because everyone knows you can't sew up a wound after 12 hours.
Finally we got called. We were ushered into a triage area, and told to sit on the stretcher and ...wait again! At last, a tired looking man arrived. He poked and prodded at the gash, and then announced that glue might not be a great option as Devlin would still likely have a small scar.
Doctor: So, it's really up to you.
Me: Will the glue help?
Doc: Oh yeah, it'll help but he'll probably still have a mark.
Me: Do the glue.
Doc: Are you sure? There's a risk of infection.
Me: And there wouldn't be a risk of infection if we left it to heal as is, and possibly have a bigger scar? Do the glue.
Doc: Are you SURE?
Me (wanting to scream but managing to control my tone and volume): Yes, do the glue. (I haven't sat here waiting all night, trying to entertain this child, while second guessing my decision to go to the hospital while alternately wondering if he'll be forever scarred and maimed only to be told "forget it".)

In the end, it took 90 seconds to glue the wound. Some words about watching out
for infection. And we were out of there. Exhausted. Relieved. Sleepy.
Although I think Devlin enjoyed the time alone with mommy and daddy, even if it was in a noisy, crowded ER. He did once comment that he missed Ceilidh and Aisling. At least, he bore no ill will towards Ceilidh.

That would have been that except this morning, Devlin had his appointment with the allergist. Some more waiting around in a nicer looking area. Some more time reading stories with Mommy. He heard one little boy cry, and wondered if it was going to hurt. Before I could answer, we were called in.
I explained some of the allergic reactions Devlin had experienced over the past year, and the decision was made to test his reaction to several potential allergens. Which meant lots of skin pricks on his back. He was told to lie on his tummy while I gently held him. The first part wasn't bad. It involved the nurse placing the allergens on his back - little drops of liquid. Then came the ticklish part where she wrote on his back with a pen, noting what liquid spot was what.
Then came the pain. The nurse tried to be quick about pricking Devlin's tiny back. The first prick stung. The second definitely hurt. By the third prick, he was squirming and crying, and yelling "Don't hurt me anymore!"
He wriggled halfway off the table, so both the nurse and I had to hold him down in a wrestling move while she quickly finished the pricking. More screams of pain, and the accusatory look of hurt in his eyes as the tears poured out was enough to make me cry. When it was all over, and we were waiting for the skin reactions to begin (and boy, did they ever!), Devlin kept crying and lamenting "This is the worst day ever!" Even promises of treats wouldn't calm him down.
He finally calmed down after I promised he could pick out a candy at the mall. There were lots of hugs and kisses before he finally forgave me for bringing him to this place. "I don't ever want to come to this doctor again!" he stated.
Unfortunately, based on his reactions to peanuts, lentils, cat hair and some others, it looks like we'll be back at the doctor's in another couple of years.
And so, that was Devlin's horrible, no good, terrible adventure with the medical world.

I'm just a spring chicken

There's nothing like a five year old to make your day.

Devlin watched as I worked out one morning. As I grunted and sweated through lunges, push-ups, tricep extensions - he patiently sat in a chair, wrapped in a blanket and kept up a commentary on my progress. When I finished, he remarked, "You must be strong now, after all that essersizin'. "
Me: I don't know. Mommy just wants to stay in shape.
Devlin: Why?
Me: I don't want to get old.
Devlin: Well, how old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Devlin (ignoring my side-step): How old are you?
Me: Thirty-seven.
Devlin: Oh, you're still little. My Daddy is forty six!

If that's a compliment, I'll take it!

And incidentally, this "my Daddy this" and "my Daddy that" is amusing at times, and embarrassing at other times. Like when we're at the check-out line, and Ceilidh and Devlin are both talking about "my Daddy". I feel like one of those ladies with 3 different baby daddies!

Devlin - Mea Culpa

Devlin is allergic to peanuts. We suspected something was up when he gagged and threw up after a taste of peanut butter. But since he was 18 months old, and he had a very strong gag reflex, we didn't take it too seriously. A few months later, after a very very tiny nibble of a Mrs. Fields' peanut butter cookie, he vomited, in projectile-fashion. Now we were freaked out, and after a six month wait to see the pediatric allergist, our fears were confirmed.
So, we began to carry a epi-pen with us, read the labels, rid our house of peanut products and mourned the fact that Devlin would never enjoy a simple lunch of p.b.& j. As two people who love peanut butter, we confined our peanut binges to outside the home when we were at work. Fortunately, he didn't demonstrate any allergies to tree nuts - almonds, pecans, walnuts, macadamia nuts. As parents of a peanut-allergic child, we became educated in the differences between peanuts, which are members of the legume family, and tree nuts. This also meant we had to watch Devlin's reactions upon eating other well-known legumes, like beans, chick-peas, lentils, even peas! Fortunately for us, he vomits after ingesting the offending item. The epi-pen is precautionary at this point, and hopefully will remain just that.
Devlin's also allergic to dogs and cats. When he pets an animal, and then makes contact with his face, his face puffs up. (Which is why there are no pets in our family.) We've notes that he's thrown up after having one bite of peas and a sip of ham and lentil soup. All foods he ate as a baby and toddler without reactions, but this may be a sign of the allergy becoming more severe. He's also recently broken out in hives, but we're unsure of the trigger. His eczema is flaring up too. So, there's another appointment booked with the allergist to follow-up on his condition.
In the meantime, we continue on as before. I rarely make meals with beans, and if I do, Devlin doesn't eat it. (Neither does Ceilidh, but that has nothing to do with allergies - more like 3 year old stubborness and pickiness.) We've stopped having peas. We've tried edamame and there hasn't been a reaction yet. No peanuts on pad thai. No peanut butter cookies. Ceilidh and Aisling have also been banned from peanuts, just in case. We love the fact that most indoor playgrounds and schools are peanut-free. Now that he's older, he can tell us if his tummy doesn't feel good, or if he thinks he's going to throw up. We fill out gazillions of forms for school, and send several epi-pens to the class room, just in case.
A few weeks ago, I did the post-Halloween chore of picking through the kids' candy loot and taking away all the peanut goodies. Some were easy - Reeses products, Snickers. Others not so much. But I (and Daddy) totally missed one. Mr. Big chocolate bars. I hadn't seen those in years, and it never occurred to me that there would be peanuts in there.
A few nights ago, the kids picked out their one Halloween treat after dinner. Devlin picked Mr. Big. He took one bite, and promptly announced his tummy didn't feel good. He started making like he was going to gag. Rushed him to the bathroom. Went through the garbage to look for the tiny wrapper. Pored through the teeny tiny list of ingredients. Buried halfway through the list of chemically sounding items, there it was - peanuts. My bad, Daddy bad, we all bad.
Mea Culpa Devlin. All Mommy's fault.
Just like that one time I let you take a bite of the drumstick ice cream cone, totally forgetting there were tiny peanuts on top.

I've become my parents

Remember when we were all young, and we all swore we'd never become our parents? We'd never do to our kids what our parents did to us? Well, I've become just like my parents. I've bought matching shirts for Aisling and Ceilidh. I used to hate having the exact same outfit as my younger sister. Maybe I should buy matching outfits for my "twins" instead.
I find myself repeating what my parents used to say to me at the dinner table - "Clean your plate. You're very fortunate to have good food to eat because there are starving children all over the world."
Or, "I wouldn't complain about dinner. You're lucky to have a mother and father who care enough to cook healthy and yummy food. Some children aren't lucky enough to have parents, or even enough food to eat."
And everyone knows this one: "Stop crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!"
But I realized I had become just like my parents, when I caught myself in this scenario. (Although, it's not really a bad thing because I think my parents did a great job. After all, we've all turned out okay, right?)
Devlin was upset about something. A common occurrence that happens five or six times a day in the life of a five year old. He stomped up the stairs. (Quite a feat for a child who weighs 31 pounds soaking wet.) I made him return, and go back up the stairs quietly. He stomped back up again. We repeated the exercise until he learned to ascend the stairs with quiet footfalls. And when he almost at the top, he gave one last stomp before running into his room.
That's when I saw my dad in me, and...myself in Devlin because that last act of rebellion was just like me.

Aisling's latest thing

Having older siblings is great. You have someone to play with and teach you new things. Sometimes, the older siblings pass on bad habits. Like screaming for no reason. Aisling has now learned this latest trick from Ceilidh and Devlin. When all 3 scream, they think it's hilarious, but the ruckus is enough to wake the dead.

This morning, Aisling decided to voice her displeasure of having to entertain herself for 7 minutes while I showered by screaming and screeching. Then she threw her books and toys onto the floor. Which is easier for me to deal with, than having her in the bathroom with me while I shower because then she'll play with the toilet water, or unroll the entire roll of toilet paper.

I don't like this new side of Aisling. So, when I capture a special smile from her, I hold onto it and cherish it to get through the moments when she's not so angelic.

Autumn Days

After a few very very chilly days in October, it's been nice to have a bit of a reprieve these last couple of weeks. An Indian summer, one might say. Between jumping in the leaves and enjoying a summertime treat, the children have been taking full advantage of this warm weather.

But they haven't forgotten what holiday comes soon after Halloween. The queries have started already.

"When is it going to be Christmas?"

"When are we going to decorate the house?"

"When is Santa coming?"

"When can we decorate the tree?"

"When is it going to snow???"

And since the commercials have started to air, and the flyers have begun to arrive at the door, "Can I get that for Christmas if I'm really really good?"

The Royal Winter Fair

Since both Wayne and I had the day off, we took the kids to the Royal Winter Agricultural Fair yesterday. Dubbed "where country meets city", you could easily tell our kids were truly city born and bred. They were the ones holding their noses as they gazed upon the cows, sheep, goats, various turkeys and chickens. They went "pee-yew" and gagged whenever they saw an animal defecating in front of them, and laughed hysterically at the sheep clad in their white "clansmen" styled coats after the sheep had their wool shorn. Okay, so did we. And to be honest, I had never been that close to a cow before either.

But the kids had a great time, and loved feeding the various species at the petting farm area. See Devlin's and Ceilidh's face after the first ticklish feed?

Aisling shouted out "cow" as we walked past many, many varieties of cattle. Ceilidh looked at one udder and said that it was a boy cow because there was a pee-pee on it. At least no one wanted to bring home a lamb for a pet.

There were lots of treats for all. Cotton candy, delicious fudge, gourmet lollipops, yummy fresh cut fries.

And the doggie show. After waiting in line, and sitting on bleachers for 30 minutes, while trying to keep a very very tired toddler entertained, the President's Choice Super Dog show started. It's really a bunch dogs of various breeds and sizes running through an obstacle course. The kids love seeing how fast the dogs can run and how high they can jump. It was a very entertaining show. But after all that, Ceilidh was really only interested in looking for Rover, the President's Choice dog food mascot in the rubber suit!

Devlin is half-Kornean

Devlin is becoming aware that people look different, and are probably from different parts of the world. For instance, he knows he's half-Kornean (as he used to say when he couldn't quite pronounce Korean), and he's half-mungee cake. Okay, that's a bit of a slam to his non-Kornean side, but it's pretty funny to hear him proclaim himself as such.
One day, his uncle asked him about his friends at school, and Devlin provided details about their names.
Uncle Billy: And what do they look like?
Devlin: What do you mean?
Billy: Do they look like me, or do they look like your dad?
Devlin (looking at his uncle like his uncle had grown 3 heads): They look like themselves!
Billy (laughing) : I mean, do they look Asian like me, or do they look "white" like your dad?
Devlin: They're brown, like from Africa.

So, I guess he's figuring out that different looking people originate from different parts of the world.

Then on the weekend, we had this conversation after his skating lesson.

Devlin: Mommy, you know that boy who skates and glides really good?
Mommy: Yes?
Devlin: He's Korean.
Mommy: How do you know?
Devlin: I saw his face. His eyes look closed.
Mommy (trying not to laugh): Well, he could be Chinese. In fact, I think he is Chinese.
Devlin: How come Korean eyes look closed?
Mommy: That's how God made them.

Moral of the story: It takes more than black hair and yellow skin to be Korean.

My twins

(No, not what you're thinking, Wayne!)

If I could have a nickel for every time someone asked if Devlin and Ceilidh were twins - well, I'd be rich. At about 22 months, Ceilidh suddenly shot up in height and everywhere we went, we were asked "Are they twins?" When the answer was no, people asked if they were very close in age, like 9 months apart?
They may be 25 months apart, but they're now 1/2 inch apart in height. As of last night, Ceilidh outweighs Devlin by 1 pound. How is that possible, when she hardly eats and he is always eating? Mind you, they're nowhere near the normal weight range for their ages. At 5 years of age, Devlin is still 31 pounds - 9 pounds shy of getting out of that car seat! My girlfriend gives me hand-me-downs for Devlin, from her 3 year old son.
The doctor is hopeful that Wayne's genes will kick in and Devlin will have a huge growth spurt. Maybe when he's a teenager.
In the meantime, we'll continue to field questions about our twins, and enjoy the fact that Devlin and Ceilidh are the best of playmates who can go on amusement park rides together since they're the same size!

Ceilidh - My Girly Girl

Sometimes I am amazed that Ceilidh is my daughter because I was never into the frilly dresses thing. She loves to play dress-up, and prefers to wear "pretty" colours like purple and pink, and anything with flowers. She thoroughly enjoys dance class and gymnastics.
At three years of age, Devlin was displaying some talent with handling a hockey stick and he loved to shoot pucks. He was also adept at kicking the soccer ball, and could dribble the ball with both feet. Ceilidh is not displaying the same athletic prowess in the traditional sports at age 3. Which is totally okay with us. Her talents lie elsewhere.
One afternoon, Auntie Grace and Devlin were playing a bit of ball hockey on the driveway. Ceilidh wanted to join in. Devlin suggested the goalie's position to her. She agreed. She played like a sieve. Then Ceilidh wanted to try to shoot the puck too. Despite numerous reminders and demonstrations on how to hold the stick and line up the shot, she failed to make a decent shot. She got frustrated. So, then Devlin suggested she be the cheerleader and provided her with some cheering tools. Ceilidh was in seventh heaven. This was her niche, and she played the role well.
My sister, Grace, who played various high school sports and coaches various sports teams now felt this was a huge step back in the struggle for equal rights as she watched Ceilidh happily shake her booty and cheer.
But then again, we've seen Ceilidh tackle her brother and bring him down easily. She is displaying an uncanny talent for wrestling. Who knows? She may have a future in Greco-Roman wrestling - a decidedly unladylike sport.

Funny memory of Devlin

As a medical doctor, my sister sometimes attends conferences. Sometimes, she gets really cool freebies at these conferences, like mugs or pens. Sometimes she gets t-shirts that are too big for her and she passes them on to family members. That's how Wayne got a t-shirt with a picture of a cute chubby infant breast-feeding. He's had that shirt for a few years now, and wears it at home, not infrequently. But for some reason, the picture finally caught Devlin's eye.
Devlin: Why does that baby have a big funny looking belly?
Daddy: It's not a belly. The baby is nursing.
Devlin: What?
Daddy: The baby is getting breast-fed by the mother. You were all breast fed as babies.
Devlin: Oh, you mean boobs. I've got boobs too.
Daddy: It's called breasts. And that's how mommies feed their babies.
Devlin and Ceilidh: Boobs! Ha ha.. funny.

And the message about being breast-fed was completely lost on them as they collapsed into giggles. But it brought back memories of nursing all of my babies, and a memory of Devlin when Ceilidh was an infant. Unlike other children, Devlin had no interest in breasts once the breast-feeding was over. He made the switch to bottles, and never looked back. Never once gazed upon the naked chest with longing or with smacking lips in the tub (Aisling did that once). Never showed a particular interest in what I was doing when I was feeding Ceilidh. A friend's child watched her with interest, and wanted to know if Mommy's other breast produced apple juice?
Not Devlin. The only time he displayed any interest was when I caught him walking around the house with my breast pump attached to his chest, trying to work the handle.
Really as far he was concerned, breast-feeding was a way to quiet a crying baby. He and Ceilidh were playing "pretend" one day. The baby was crying, and Devlin decided to silence the "crying baby" by bringing the teddy bear to his chest and lifted up his t-shirt!

If I don't see it, then it doesn't happen...

As a working mom with 3 kids, a crazy schedule, a long commute, I have discovered that early mornings are the best time to squeeze in a workout. I generally try to fit in about 30 minutes of cardio or weights or a combination of both, in the basement. If the weather is agreeable, I'll go for a run. The kids are usually asleep, and Wayne is still at home to deal with an early riser if necessary. Once in awhile, either Aisling or Ceilidh have woken up early, and will come down to watch me finish my workout.
Devlin has not, as is evident by this conversation he had with his Dad last night.
On the way to gymnastics, they passed by a gym.
Devlin: That's a work out place. Mommy should go there to work out.
Daddy: Why? Why not Daddy?
Devlin: Daddy, you don't need to go there to work out.
(And in case Daddy thought he didn't need to because he was already buffed, the next statement put that crazy idea to rest.)
Devlin: You have that running machine (referring to our elliptical trainer) in the basement. You can use that to work out.
Daddy: Well, maybe Mommy works out in the basement too. In the morning.
Devlin: I don't see her exercise.
Daddy: Really early, when you're still sleeping.
Devlin: Well, I'm a slow waker so I never see her exercise. Maybe Ceilidh has - she's a fast waker.

Daylight Savings

I remember, before kids, looking forward to the fall weekend when we're turn back the clocks. It meant an extra hour of sleep, and extra hour to snuggle in bed, and an extra hour of "found" time.
Nowadays, I dread that "fall back" weekend. Children don't understand "time". They simply wake up when their bodies are rested. (When's the last time we adults have ever done that?) That means, they wake up at their usual time, except, now it's 6:30 am, not 7:30 am.
And the adults? We're still hoping to find that extra hour of sleep before the "spring forward" weekend arrives.

Happy Halloween

The kids had been anticipating Halloween since Thanksgiving. They changed their minds about their costumes on a daily basis. Five days before the great day, Devlin was persuaded to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and Ceilidh resigned herself to being Snow White. It was explained that she had lovely black hair just like Snow White, not orange like Ariel's (her first choice). Aisling accepted her junior turtle assignment without a fuss.

On Friday morning, Ceilidh woke up at 5 am, on the mistaken belief that it was Halloween. Her confusion was understandable since Devlin was getting dressed up in his costume for school. She got to don her costume and have her face painted too, but it was gently explained that Halloween wasn't until Saturday. To distract her from the threatening tears, we promised to carve the pumpkins that night. That worked.

On October 31st, both Devlin and Ceilidh were up early. They wanted to know when it would be time to go for candy. Surprisingly, we managed to get Ceilidh down for a nap, despite her excitement. And feed them dinner. Before the frenzied excitement began. Extra layers of clothing to be found and worn because no one wanted a jacket to hide the costume. Faces to be painted, and re-painted. Treat bags to be located. All in between handing out treats to the neighbourhood monsters. Finally, able to send off kids with Daddy, while I got to enjoy a few treats and clean up the chaos.

Since there weren't many trick or treaters this year (perhaps the swine flu was the scariest monster out there), it was great night for all. Lots and lots of candy for the little monsters, and lots of left-over candy for Daddy.