The Hair Cut

Today I decided it was time to cut Orin's hair.

It has been getting a little long lately,
as you can see in the next video clip.

In preparation for the big event,
I watched a motivational/ instructional video

on cutting boy's hair.

I was practically glowing with confidence by the end

and snatched up the scissors.

Step one went great.

Step two... okay

and step three... well, step three didn't go so well.

It was those pesky bangs that got me in the end.

I still swear that it would have come out okay had I been given

the chance to fix it, but instead,
we opted for the easy way out and broke out the buzzer

-aka the never fail hair-cutting tool-

Well, pretty much never fail.

It can end up too short.

When Orin first saw the finished product, he was shocked.

But it soon began to grow on him...
and in the end, I think he decided it was A-Ok.
Thank goodness for hair buzzers.

Until next time,
I will be practicing step three.

Drying the Cat

Warning: This is not a joke.

Something terrible happened yesterday: I accidentally dried Trouble.
Here is the story, because I am sure that you are demanding
an explanation for this one.
Last night, I was drying our sheets in a load with Orin's fleece blanket.
The sheets were taking a long time, but the blanket was already dry,
so when I went upstairs to put Orin to bed,
I grabbed the blanket and left the sheets,
but I forgot to turn the drier back on.
Unbeknownst to me, while I was putting Orin to bed,
Trouble decided that the drier would be a nice place to take a nap,
after all, who can't resist curling up in damp sheets?
Anyway, when I had finished putting Orin to bed,
I noticed that I had forgotten to turn the drier back on;
not thinking twice about it, I closed the door and turned it on.
As I was leaving the laundry room, I noticed that the load
was bumping around quite a bit.
I figured that my sheets had bunched up (as they sometimes do)
and that they would need a quick fluffing if they were to dry properly.
So I opened the door and, to my great surprise,
was greeted by Trouble
trying to remain upright and
not the least bit happy.
I felt terrible.
I didn't know what to do, so after a bit of extra petting
I gave her a special cat treat
(of which Cali stole half,
even though she had not been subjected to the drier)
I think Trouble is beginning to consider
maybe
one day
forgiving me.
But it won't be anytime soon.

It is not Orin's birthday

There has been something fishy going on lately.

A stream of packages have been arriving at our door
over the last two weeks.
The packages don't look very suspicious
--plain, brown, medium-sized boxes--
until further inspection reveals that they have all been addressed
to Orin and they are from different places.

Is it his birthday? No
Did he win an award? No
Is this some group attempt to spoil him? Maybe

Let's have a closer look at the evidence:
The first box was a fleece Duke blanket from Grandma Elisabeth.
The arrival of the blanket made sense to me.
My mother is a die-hard Duke fan and, with basketball season
just starting up again, I understand if she felt the need to make sure
her grandson's allegiances were properly directed.
Now, with a blanket from both grandmothers,
(the RedSox blanket bought for him by Grandma Sheree)
Orin's crib was finally up to snuff.
As I carefully fluffed the new blanket in Orin's bed
I was still unaware that something strange was happening.
Then box two arrived.
It was from his other grandmother, Carla, and it contained clothes.
Lots of clothes, of which these are two of the highlights.

...so true...

Now, I figured that Carla had sent these because during her visit
I had mentioned that Orin needed some wardrobe additions
due to the change in seasons.
So I decided to just be grateful for the cute new things
and not think twice about it.

But then another box came.
This time from Orin's Grandpa Jack.
In the box, more clothes, all with a Cape Cod theme.
"The boy needs to know where his roots are."
My dad explained, convincingly.
Right.
But at this point I was starting to wonder...
had Orin somehow put them up to this?
Impossible.
I am just over-reacting.
Now he is warm and toasty and representing the east coast.
I couldn't possibly complain.

But then today, another box arrived.
This one was from his Grandma Elisabeth again.
Inside were two books,one of which was for reading, and one of which was to sit on.
"A kid can never have too many books," my mom defended.

No, but he can have too many presents.
Enough is enough.

If you add together all of the packages sent from his east coast family
with the constant showering of gifts from his west coast family,
what you end up with is a toddler who thinks that he is the
King of the Universe,
and the Sole Reason the USPS Exists.
Going into the Terrible Twos, I am not sure
this is the mindset I want my child to be in.

I just hope it is not already too late.

Hanger Man

Recently, Orin has been taking an interest in helping around the house.

He is very receptive when it comes to seeing things that need to
be done and will jump on any opportunity to get in on the action.
This, as you might imagine, is a mixed blessing.
Some things that Orin would love to assist with,
like unloading glasses from the dishwasher,
are chores I would rather do by myself.
I have, however, come up with one chore for Orin:
He is my hanger man.
It goes something like this:
I select a number of hangers and hand them to O.
He then proceeds to throw them all on the floor
in a wild burst of excitement.
Once he has calmed his initial enthusiasm, he collects a hanger
and passes it to me.
He then hands me another...
and another.
Sometimes I have trouble keeping up.
When we are finished putting the clothes away,
he is always a little disappointed,
but eventually recovers and heads off to the kitchen to see
what he can help with in there.

I follow close behind.

Utensil Practice

Lately, Orin has been practicing eating with a spoon.
Although I am not sure he has the manual dexterity to master
the skill-set yet, I am letting him practice for two reasons:
1) He will never learn if he doesn't, and
2) There are many foods that he absolutely refuses to eat
unless granted the privilege of operating his own spoon.
Yogurt, unfortunately, is one of these foods.
I would like to say that Orin is making progress in commanding
utensils, but he is not.
The main flaw in his approach is that he likes
to turn the spoon upside down before it reaches his mouth.
The result of this, as you may have guessed,
is that most of the contents of the spoon is deposited in his lap.
But, for all the skills he lacks,
he is extremely thorough... licking every part of the spoon
before deeming his meal over and throwing it on the floor.
Forks are up next.
This should be interesting.

A Natural Trick-or-Treater

This year for Halloween Orin was,
you guessed it,
a cow.

But he wasn't just any cow,
he was a crazy, motorcycle-riding cow.
A blaze-of-fire kind of cow.
A cow with a hoodie.
And spots.

Instead of trick-or-treating around the neighborhood
we decided to join Jon and Hillary at Trunk-or-Treat,
an event put on by their church where people
decorate the trunks of their cars
and pass out candy in the parking lot of the church.

Cole and Dakota went as Iron Man
and the Black Knight, both characters
from movies that I would know about if I was cooler.
Hillary and Jon were less lame that Casey and I,
who didn't even bother to dress up.
Hillary went as a cat and Paisley was either a bumblebee
or a criminal depending on whether or not you are color blind.

We arrived at the Trunk-or-Treat
parking lot just as it began to get dark.

As soon as we turned him loose, Orin snatched a treat bag
and took off like a rocket.

You would have thought he had been practicing
for this day his whole life.

He navigated around the parking lot with ease,
thrusting out his bag, receiving his prize,
and moving on to the next car without so much as a thank you.

We could barely keep up with him.

After he had visited every car (and some twice)
he sat down on the curb and began to sort through his goods.

He then carefully selected a brown tootsie roll pop
and a chocolate eyeball.

I think Halloween just aquired another fan.

The end of the afro

Lately, Casey has been faced with a growing problem.
His curls, normally kept at bay by a monthly trimming,
have been allowed to proliferate to a rather shocking degree,
giving his head the appearance of being almost perfectly circular.

While I loved the longer-than-usual length,
I have to admit I was a little concerned about the next stage in growth
(the one he would need a hair-tie for)
So, when he suggested maybe it was time for a change,
I was supportive.

But before we hacked it off,
he wanted one more opportunity to create a full-blown afro.

All it took was a brush and a couple carefully executed strokes.
Now he was ready.

I am not entirely sure how news of the pending hair-cut spread
so fast, but within minutes,
Jon, Dakota, and Cole were lined up ready to assist with the cutting.
But before we began, Jon decided to run across the street
to put on his Halloween costume for one last picture with shaggy Casey.

He was only slightly disappointed that his costume
would be outdated by the time we went trick-or-treating that night,
but he recovered quickly.
Here they are: the two Casey's.

Finally, it was time to bring out the scissors.
Dakota got the honor of the first cut

then Cole jumped in on the action.

Even Jon took off a couple chunks.
When it was all said and done
all that was left of Casey's curls was this:
And, last but not least,
the "After" picture
which, I can say with confidence,
was at least an improvement for Jon.