Happy Halloween

Reid puts the finishing touches on his pumpkin with Aunt Stephanie, who had some cool cheats for making Jack-o-Lanterns that don't look the same every year.

Stay tuned for exciting pictures of Reid trick-or-treating in our old neighborhood. Unfortunately, the old camera is being ornery, so I can't get to them tonight. Also, exhausted. 'Night.

Milestones All Over the Place

Well, I might as well get this out first and foremost. Reid is sleeping in a big boy bed.

That's right. Upstairs at this very moment is a child who could, without warning, rise from his bed and move freely as far as a baby-gate at the top of the stairs will permit. He's unconfined. He's a free radical.

During Reid's visit to northern grandparents, both of whom are crib-less people, Reid slept in a similar arrangement, and trustworthy or not (all grandparents report that things are always just peachy and wonderful to ensure frequent return visits), they said Reid had no problems on futons, inflatable mattresses and who knows what else.

So we figured we would go for it. As it turns out, this is important because we will at some point need to move him to a different room, if, for instance, someone had designs on his current abode.

Therefore, I hastily broke down the Ikea crib that has served us so well and transformed it to the final iteration: junior bed. Reid went to sleep that first night without a peep. In the mornings, he lays around in his bed as if it was still a crib, like he's in a force field or something. He makes noise to tell us he's awake, and we go get him when it's time for breakfast.

Needless to say, this entire website is a testament to the borderline lunacy of Reid's parents. I don't need to be reminded of this fact. So you can save the commentary when I reveal that I snuck into Reid's room with my trusty digital camera's flash ablaze to document his first night in his big-boy-bed.


The big-boy bed business is a pretty big deal. So consider this next item a preview for future fun photography. Just imagine the costume and pumpkin-carving good times that lay ahead.

Who Is That Short-Haired Little Baby?

Unfortunately, there was no time for a new RPOD tonight, and in place of a picture, K gets a freshly painted living room ceiling. Oh, and this 'from the vault' shot of some strange, short-haired little one-year-old. Who is that handsome young man?

Après Nous, Les Grandparents

So we've had a regular whirlwind grandparent-packed few weeks here at Rizkerson Heavy Industries. Reid clocked solo time with Grammie and Pawpaw, Nonni, Baba, and got bonus hours in a small private airplane, and, as we see here, puttering in the garden.

In this sequence, taken from Reid's visit to grandparents Grammie and Pawpaw in Atlanta, Ga, Reid learns the horrible truth about vegetables. Carrots, to be exact.

As you can see, Reid is happy to help Grammie pull something out of the dirt. This seems like straightforward, dirty, toddler-ific fun.

Once the pulling is over (it looked like real hard work, not some staged photo op), Reid looks upon the fruit of his labor. Well, vegetables of his labor.

In the final image, Reid is clearly horrified to learn that carrots, which he loves, especially when they have been scrubbed, peeled, and cut into perfect bite-sized pieces, start their lives as filthy roots buried in the ground!

This is made somewhat worse because, it would appear, Grammie is brandishing the tuber at Reid like a weapon.

No, seriously, Reid actually had a great time playing in the garden, though Grammie didn't think it played that well initially. Future visits to the back of carrots we keep in our icebox as treats for both our son and dog were met with a puzzling stream of consciousness lecture which we eventually figured out was about picking carrots in the garden with Grammie.

If you read this far, it was worth it, because here's a whole page of photos from Reid's various grandparent visits around the Eastern United States. Remember, each picture is clickable for larger viewing.

Silence Is Golden; More Noise Coming Soon

Well, Reid had a wonderful visit, by all accounts to his Nonni and Baba. While I find Pittsburgh more of a playground for nostalgia's sake, Reid apparently had a kickin' time in the 'burgh, checking out fire trucks, airplanes, museums and the like.

He travelled without fear, bidding us goodbye like a disaffected teen. "Bye-bye," and he was off. We stood at the door like empty-nesters, misting slightly, but projecting confidence. Confidence he apparently didn't need us to project, as he took the week without parents completely in stride. He narrated the trip: 'Nonni's house,' he stated matter-of-factly to my sister who took him there. He slept in a non-crib without a peep, and drowsed late into the morning by Reid standards (8:30!). After a few days at Nonni's house, 'Baba's house' was the official proclamation, and he soon headed there, hanging out for a few days and culminating in a private airplane ride (which does jack up Baba's cool-points, as it did when I was the young man in the airplane two and a half decades ago).

Photographic evidence of Reid's visit to his paternal grandparents is forthcoming. Both have filed photo-logs with the editors of Hardly Born and they are being reviewed for inclusion in this august publication. Keep your eyes peeled.

Also coming up are photos from a follow-up visit Reid paid to his maternal grandparents, in the surprisingly cool confines of Atlanta, Ga. Stay tuned.