Weekend Recap

Halloween: Kids dressed up. People gave them candy.

Honestly, not much to report here. The girls had a great time. Since this was Gertrude’s first Halloween where she was conscious of the whole thing, she really got into the idea of free candy. The rest of the weekend was filled with tearful pleadings for candy. Plus, as the sun began to set on Saturday night, she picked up her little pumpkin and said, “We do it again?”

She’s become a little wary of the world, since she’s now beginning to understand what discipline is. For example, last week she was getting up and leaving the table during breakfast. Finally, Mom got fed up and took her breakfast away. She comes in the room and says, “Hey! Where my oatmeal?” Mom explained. Gertrude cried. All was lost.

Later that day, at Grandma’s house, she got up from lunch to go on one of her random errands that suddenly strike her in the middle of a meal. Halfway out of the room she turned around to face Grandma, shook her index finger at her and said, “Don’t take my food away.”

Yesterday I found her, pants-less, sitting on the potty yelling, “I fall in. No! I fall in. No!” as her little butt shot in and out of the toilet seat. Apparently there is nothing more fun that sitting on the toilet.

My weekend was not nearly as exciting as the children’s. I spent Friday night handing out candy to neighborhood miscreants. For the most part the kids were very nice. So were the parents. Although one lady shot me an evil look when I let her son take more candy than she approved.

“Hey,” I said, “It’s fargin’ Halloween. Let the kid take home the candy. Alright, Joan Crawford?”

Saturday was interesting. I spent a good part of it sitting in my bathtub with a caulking gun. Caulking is not one of my strengths. Honestly. In fact, I such so bad at it that the space between my fingernails and my fingers are now watertight. Oh, sure, the family thought it was hilarious that daddy managed to get more caulk in his ears than on the joint between the tub and the tile. But daddy was more worried that somehow the silicone was poisoning his system.

Look, I never said I was Bob Vila. In fact, if Bob Vila saw me he’d probably tell me to sit down before I hurt myself. I understand, in theory, how tools and whatnot work, what they are supposed to do, etc. But in execution, well, I become a two-year-old with severe motor development issues. I also deal with my frustration in the same way as a two-year-old. By throwing the object that is frustrating my across the room.

Only problem was that by the time I threw the caulking gun it had some much caulk dripping all over it that it stuck to the wall.