Bringing the Fun Inside

Autumn in Michigan is means colorful trees, red barns at cider mills, warm colors tinged with sunshine.

Taking advantage of sun soaked mornings, we dawdle on our way to the garage, turning the few feet into a roundabout journey through the yard, pointing to old birds' nests peeking through thinning leaves.

Autumn in Michigan is gray skies, wind stripping branches of their colorful accessories, rain-soaked leaves trodden into brown pulp on the sidewalks.

Errands and playdates beckon, but some days the rain is chilly enough to bring the fun inside instead.

Both kids love washing dishes, brushing their teeth, washing their hands and all other activities that involve running water. 

In an effort to practice a little conservation, and give them a way to play together without elbowing for position, the water table came inside, along with some bath toys.  Later, a couple squirts of floor cleaner and a mop recycled some of that water into an afternoon cleaning session.

This week, we washed and hollowed our mini pumpkins.  Perfect (temporary) homes for my little Cinderella's favorite friends.

How are you spending your rainy days this fall?

Halloween Outtakes

Zoo Boo 

very excited carousel rider

 

kind of grossed out by pumpkin innards 

carving a pumpkin with Grandpa

so proud of her pumpkin 

the one where I let my exhausted daughter get hyped up on sugar

she still went to sleep in the car, thirty minutes later

Trade or Treat

the best family shot we could muster

"Trick or treat" was a little more than he could handle this year, but he managed to combine a giant smile, a "tweet," and a "tank ew" to convey his desire for a piece of the Halloween fun. 

Thrilled with the game, he kept one of his treats clasped in his hand at all times. 

Always easygoing, he made sure no one was left out. 

Several times, he tried to hand over his clutched candy bar in exchange for the candy handed out at the next house.

Bringing back the barter system, one mini candy bar at a time.

a new species has been discovered

we'll call it the Pretzel Monkey 

After a late night at the Zoo Boo, Abbey awoke with a raspy voice and a self-diagnosed "scratchy throat." 


Snuggles from Grandma and a little extra TV (an episode of Little Bear, straight from the story books Grandma used to read to Mommy and Uncle Donnie) were as close to a nap as she got, but she perked up a little as the festivities began.


Layers under and over her costume and a fairly tame trick-or-treat route kept her warm, though she was hitching a ride in a stroller by the end of our evening. 


New footie jammies brought a smile to her face, as she drifted to sleep on the drive home, her small fingers still encircling her glow-in-the-dark wand.

making silly faces has replaced saying cheese

the only decent photo with the monkey hood

"loves pretzels, hates hats" sums up his Halloween preferences this year

A Gourd Disco Party

she takes her crafting seriously

"Let's make a craft," Abbey suggests, at least once a week. 

The one necessary requirement for a craft, in Abbey's expert opinion, is glue.  We can glue sequins or small, puffy balls, or pictures cut from magazine, but we must glue.  Anything else is "just coloring" or "just painting" or "just play doh."

When my friend Nichole posted about a three-step craft involving glue, glitter, and little gourds, I knew we would be making the trek to Michael's to supplement our craft supplies and make a mess of the dining room yet again.

We covered part of the dining room table in a plastic table cloth, covered little pumpkins and squash with copious amounts of glue, and shook glitter until the colors ran out (little packets!) and then moved onto the back-up glitter.

Originally, I had planned to do an orange or two, a gold, and maybe a pale green.  A little glitter goes a long way, you know.

a gourd disco party wasn't in my plans

Abbey thought otherwise.  She carefully painted, holding them up for my approval, and shook glitter until I told her it was gone, helping me scoop it between bent sheets of paper that made it a little easier for her little hands to control.

We ended up with eleven sparkling gourds, and she insisted that all of them, "are good to put out, Mommy."

this isn't exactly how it looked in my head

but who can argue with all of her hard work?

We purchased:

two bags of plastic gourds (I wasn't sure if I wanted to do small or mini)

glue for glitter crafts

giant container of gold glitter (not the fine type, this was back-up glitter)

candy corn

We had at home:

paintbrushes

multi-colored packets of fine glitter

cake stand

taper candles

vase

The Perfect Apple

then

She clasps an empty plastic bag in her small hand, surveying the trees with a critical eye.  Delicately, she parts leaves and touches ripe apples, settling on the perfect specimen, red brushed with hints of gold.

“I think this one!” she yells, though I am right next to her.  Only now beginning to understand the distinction between inside and outside voices, she is thrilled to be outside, flexing her vocal chords amongst the neat lines of apple trees.

Snuggled against my chest in his carrier, Dylan looks around at the sound of her voice, content to be carried in the sunshine.

“It looks perfect,” I agree, waiting for her to plop the perfect apple into her bag.

She plucks it from the tree, turning it around in her hands.

Instead of putting it safely inside the bag, she raises it to her mouth, nibbling a bit before tossing it onto the ground.

“No, that’s not it,” she declares, leaving the apple to be pressed into cider.  Handing me the bag, she moves on to her next find.

Choosing six apples may take longer expected. 

Around us, kids fall into two categories: speed pickers and taste testers, tripping on apples brought down by gravity and thrown down by hands finding flaws in the golden red skin.

Two or three more apples fail her quality inspection before she turns to me, beaming.

“Moooommmmmy,” she breathes, “It’s perfect!”

The apple she hands me is slightly small and bruised on one side, near the stem.

Her eyes meet mine, expectantly, so proud of the apple she’s finally chosen.

My lips graze Dylan’s forehead; I briefly rest my palm on her head, her hair warmed by the sun.

I gently place her apple in our bag.

“You’re right, Abs.  It’s perfect.”

now

the prompt:

autumn...

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive
autumns. ~George Eliot