Bigfoot Sighting

Is it just me or are The Boy's new shoes awfully similar in size to his mother's (which is no small *ahem* feat, given that she was frequently compared to Chewbacca in high school)?


No complaints from me about his size, of course. I do worry that the truant officer will show up at my door one of these days following up an anonymous tip from someone who has seen this child who looks to be school-aged yet sits at home all day.

(Speaking of which, The Boy has decided that he no longer wants to attend daycare or school. This is partly due to the fact that he has been told that he cannot attend them if he does not get the rest of his immunizations, so non-attendance leads the way to a needle-free existence. Upon hearing this, I reminded him that he had a fairly un-exciting life right now filled mostly with television and downloading Pokemon colouring pages. His response was that those are the things he likes to do, so all is quite fine in his world.)

I love Fridays. They're better when one is a cog in some individuality-crushing-bureaucratic-machine, of course, but second to that feeling when one is given a 48-hour pass from one's cubicle is the feeling when one's loved ones are sprung from the joint. Friday nights are typically movie-watching nights at our house, so I suspect a walk to our local purveyor of movies will be in order tonight. And we're having Ethiopian, mmm. Nothing says TGIF like eating without utensils.

Halloween is H-U-G-E down here. It's a bit disconcerting for The Girl, who struggles somewhat with the blurry boundary between reality and fantasy and is a bit frightened by all the ghoulish decor around us. But the bonus is numerous community parties. The first one was held last night in a local school:

She throws like her mother. Poor girl.

Oh, please, no. Not hockey. I *cannot* do 5 am ice times.

Have a fabulous weekend everyone!