Contradictions.

So.  Henry brought home his first school library book last week. 

We weren't there to guide him. Or influence his choice of literature (like we are at Barnes and Noble - when he wants to choose some random Scooby Doo number - or any book that makes noise and has no educational value). 

And this is what he comes home with.

In case you can't read that title, let me get you a better shot of it.

Uh, what?

Okay, I get that he's David Seward's son.  So this makes a little sense.  But...what?

I feel the need to take an aspirin.

And then he was eating a fudgesicle at the dinner table the other night and he looked like this.

With my untrained eye, I'd take him for a young-looking 11 year-old here. 

I'll say it again.  Uh, what? 

Where's my five year-old?

Sigh. Oddly enough, my saving grace at this juncture turns out to be that stench-ridden dog of blue origin. 

Because, for all the times I get slightly panicked that he's growing up and away from me, he still always comes home to blue dog.

Seriously. Thank goodness for that damn dog.

Choice.

Sometimes you choose to wear a hat.

Sometimes you choose to change the design of your blog.

It's a girl's prerogative.

Chug. Chug.

Henry never really liked trains very much.

He doesn't DISLIKE them, he has just never like-liked them.  If you see what I'm saying. 

Which was crazy because he was our first child and he was a boy... and first boys are always supposed to like trains, right? 

Or maybe not.

Well, as it turns out, all the train love was stored up in my blood (the same blood that I apprently share with Grandpa Jim and Uncle Jeff) and released into Stella's crazy little body.  Which meant we had to do some train and train track purchasing over the last several weeks.

And the train set came with a plane.  Which Henry, in fact, loved.



I sure dig it when there's a little something for everyone. 

La Vie En Rose

Back when I was a young, thoughtful traveler who liked to think about things beyond what I should cook for dinner tonight (not that there's anything wrong with that - wink, wink), I visited the Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.  I'm a bit of a fan of cemeteries in general, and this is really the mother of all cemeteries. While I was there, I came across Edith Piaf's gravesite.  And, get this. La Vie En Rose was actually playing over some loud speaker.  Where was the loudspeaker?  I mean, good grief - cue the Hollywood movie scene.  In any event, I remember being slightly dissapointed at the cheesiness of it all - and slightly overwhelmed at the fabulousness of being there, the history and the beauty of that dang song.

Fast forward 11 years and I'm taking my great, stinky kids on our daily morning trip to Starbucks for coffee (or milk - depending on which Seward you are).  And, no big surprise here, La Vie En Rose is on some compilation CD that Starbucks is promoting.  Let me say that we have a routine at our corner Starbucks.  The kids get their milk from the cooler, I order my coffee (and occasionally a vanilla scone for us to share) and the kids go get a seat somewhere.  Well, they found a seat this morning - with only two chairs - and sat there by themselves, drinking milk, eating a scone and watching people as they came in and out.  Henry looked thoughtful.  Like he was trying to figure out who these people were - what they were doing on a sunny day in Seattle.  This all played out with La Vie En Rose as a backdrop. 

And it was slightly cheesy. 

And it made me happy. 

Because my (fairly melodramatic) hope is that he'll be in Paris in his early 20s.  At a famous cemetery or some not-so-famous coffee shop, watching people.  Wondering who they are and what they're doing.  What his place is in this scene.  Living in the moment. I can hardly wait for him to have those experiences and feel that kind of connection with the greater world.  He's got such a great start at being an introspective sorta guy, so perhaps it will simply be a matter of us buying him a plane ticket.  And he can find his own way - to whatever songs and places make him thoughtful.  And happy. 

Anyway.  I sure like this song.

Seriously.

We're bringing our A game this year.

Boo.

We're getting ready.

To get spook-i-fied.

When Dad Exits the Sideline.

Sometimes you just have to get in on the action.

Where's a playground monitor when you need one? 

Falling.

Relatively quiet weekend with three Sewards. 

Thank goodness. 

We've been busy. Kindergarten has turned out to be a full-time job.  For all of us. 

And Dave traveled this week.  And the laundry has taken over.

So it was nice to hang out and do not a lot of anything (although we probably should've been doing laundry).

There were several reasons to be thankful this weekend. 

Including the palpable change of seasons...Hi, Fall.  How are you?

We're happy you're here.