the squibix family blog

There are lots of things I enjoy about the holiday. Carving pumpkins, for example. After the boys' little ones (pictured here) they were out of steam for another big pumpkin effort, so I picked one up myself and carved it just before folks arrived for our party. I did have a little help from the littlest one.

I also love costumes, and the boys had some awesome ones this year. Only we didn't take many pictures, and Leah has all of them. The high point of the evening for me was when Lijah, who had resisted all efforts to get him to dress up earlier in the day, was finally inspired when he saw Mama helping Zion into his Snowy pants. "Tep, tep?" he repeated, miming stepping into a costume himself. Seizing the moment, I dashed upstairs for Zion's old monkey costume and, because it doesn't come with the crucial step-into portion, his king pants too. Lijah was delighted to put them on and cute as a button trick-or-treating.

The big problem with trick-or-treating, of course, is the candy. The boys started sugaring up pretty early in the day, and their behavior suffered accordingly. Between that and the late night they were pretty ruined for Sunday and even some of Monday. And now we're stuck with bags more of the stuff that we hope to keep anyone—myself included—from eating. Couldn't folks find something more wholesome to share with their neighbors?! We did our best: once again our main offering to trick-or-treaters was homemade cookies.

Of course, it was nice to share the experience with friends: we advertized a party and two families joined us for the festivities. After the trick-or-treating was over it seemed like a shame to send everyone home right away, so we started a board game. It ended up going a little long; Leah may forgive me some day for my role in the debacle. And I didn't even win!

On Sunday—despite how tired we all were—we headed out west to an afternoon party at the home of our friends Ashley and Jim. It was a lovely affair, and pretty quiet: by the time we arrived there were just a few other families. The little kids ran around (well, most of them; Zion lay on the couch under a blanket) while the adults ate and ate: Jim is a great cook and likes to work in quantity. There was plenty left at the end of the evening, so he sent us home with a big bag of cornbread and another of ribs. Now that's the kind of trick-or-treating I could get behind!

I wouldn't want to eat a jack-o-lantern pumpkin. Pumpkin cultivation is now so focused on the decorative market that even sugar pumpkins are often disappointing, never mind the big field pumpkins. But when I see one tossed carelessly aside, I wish I could grab it and bring it home to feed to the chickens. And if we had a pig I'd do it! As it is our hens were delighted with the guts of the jack-o-lantern we carved on Saturday, and we'll see how they like the waxy, slightly toasted pumpkin itself in a day or two.

What do you do with your used-up pumpkins? If you want to keep them out of the trash—where, as they decompose, they release gases that contributes to global warming—we know someone with a big compost bin who's always looking for more organic matter to turn into dirt!

You'd never guess that iconic-type of fall image was actually taken on the sidewalk of a busy street. All the leaves fell at once this year, so there's pretty much a pile under every tree.

After that moment of fun and a short trip through Wilson Farm (ask Lijah about the llama...) we went down to Arlington to walk around the Reservoir. Around, and in some cases over: it's very shallow this fall. Still enough water for swans.

The next day I took the boys to Concord. We stopped at the Old North Bridge—pictured at the top of this post—and generally got into things. Like trees.

Zion was very excited to find a shiny button.

We thought it might be off a redcoat's jacket. There was one talking to tourists not far away, but when we looked at his uniform we saw it wasn't a match. Disappointing, but at least it meant Zion got to keep it!

As well as the bridge and its surrounds, we also explored the boathouse. I'd never been in before—I didn't know one even could saw that he could open the latch he didn't hesitate to invite the rest of us in. We had fun playing in the semi-darkness.

The dock was fun too.

And at home, we even managed to enjoy—briefly—a fire out in the yard. It was Lijah who encouraged me—commanded me—to start it, and the two of us spent a lovely 15 minutes appreciating the warmth and light.

November at its finest.

Last year the highlight of the boys' fall was an attraction at the farmers market fall festival: a plastic kiddie pool filled with leaves, in which was hidden wonderful prizes. The prizes were so wonderful there was apparently a bit of a scuffle after we left—or some other unpleasantness, I didn't get the whole story—so this year the leaves were just for purposeless creative play. That was enough to occupy Zion and Lijah for about an hour, but Harvey wanted more: he wanted prizes! So we recreated the scene at home.

Well, almost. Though Harvey advocated for using our pool, I pointed out that we had about eight times more leaves than would ever fit—or more. So we just hid things in the pile. Besides giving the boys their own private shot at the hunt, we used our leaves for neighborhood outreach: neighbor kids one day, homeschool friends the next. Leah's big bag of plastic animals were plenty exciting as rewards, bulked out with a little extra halloween candy. Though actually, the pure thrill of the hunt may have been all the excitement they needed: witness Zion's reaction to finding an empty egg in the pile.

For our homeschool day Tuesday the activity was even tied to our curriculum: we also took a nature walk to collect leaves, then made rubbings and compared the shape and structure of some different specimens. And this Tuesday I'm going to have the kids spread the leaves from the pile on the garden beds for mulch. A complete fall experience.

What are you doing with your leaves?

Unlike that last time, we had no advance notice that the fair was happening; I didn't notice the signs for it—on congregants' lawns all over town—until we were biking up to the playground yesterday morning. As suddenly cold as it was, so the playgrounding didn't last long, and after the library we were glad to have somewhere else inside to go. In theory, anyways; in fact the outdoor attractions caught our attention for quite a while. I didn't manage to photograph the petting zoo, but there was plenty of time for pictures at the bouncy house and the bean bag toss.

Inside we perused the white elephant sale, where Lijah charmed the old ladies at the check-out table with his careful examination of the merchandise. We only had two dollars, so it took a good half-hour to decide on our purchases: a little car, a box of dice, a sword, and a silicone pan for baking donut holes. Well worth it.

Elsewhere, there was food—which sadly we couldn't afford—and more free activities for kids. Harvey and Zion were delighted to find a Battleships game: not really life-size, but certainly quite a bit bigger than anything we've seen before. They were still happy about it even after I beat them, and I was happy that, with a board of only 49 squares instead of 81, the game was well quicker than we're used to!

Before we left we had to check out the Christmas wing, four rooms full of lights and beautiful handmade crafts and baked goods. Once again we wished we had more money: for a tiny sleigh, and a loaf of english-muffin bread, and...

Next year's fair is on the calendar, and I've made a note to budget $20 dollars for it. Do you think that'll be enough?

Now that I think about it, I shouldn't have started trying to tell this story in a text medium, because those letters can't do justice the adorable maturity and relevance of his utterance, the perfectly-tuned sound of a child who wants to convey the appearance of careful thought—it's his toy we're looking for, after all—while avoiding any effort at all, physical or even mental. He's clearly paying attention to his big brothers' example.

I have no clever wrap-up for this post, except to say that I'm with you, Lijah. "uhhh..."

My Sunday morning baking this past weekend was interrupted by a fox in the yard (Rascal was very interested, and once we let him out he saw it off in short order). We apparently have a fisher living just about in our backyard—we haven't seen it, though we've had reports from neighbors (Leah did see one in the woods several years ago). There are lots of bats around, and an owl nearby that's been very vocal many of these late fall evenings. Last year I saw a porcupine.

Now, I don't actually know if all these creatures have always been around, and I just didn't pay attention as a young lad. I was certainly oblivious to lots of other things (girls, for example...). But my hypothesis is that they are, in fact, more common now. And I like it! If we have to live in the suburbs, I'm ever so happy to share them with the wild creatures who were here first. If nothing else they make my commute a lot more interesting.

For one thing, the kids might get cold! Kids being cold or wet is a huge concern of public school educators in the suburbs, and most of them are quite happy to disappoint kids' hopes of playing in puddles—or even going outside at all—in order to save them from the dangers of the elements. And even teachers who think that wet feet are their own reasonable deterrent hesitate, less they incur the wrath of parents. Would most parents be particularly upset to have a kid come home still damp? I expect not; but one might be. And that's enough to shut down any puddle fun across the board, and all spring the cry of "Stay out of the puddles!" echoes across Massachusetts schoolyards.

And then of course there's the concern that, if kids are outside—even to "take regular nature walks and observe the daily and seasonal changes in the natural environment"—they'll be missing vital pedagogical opportunities. We're not going to catch up with Singapore if we're wasting time in nature! As is the case with the fear of weather, it's not clear who first decided that first grade would set the academic tone and decide if a student would be able to gain admission to a prestigious college... but now everyone seems to think that. So there are no more toys in first grade rooms, except those to use during the 20 minutes of indoor recess a day kids get when it's colder than 25 degrees or so.

As it is now, no one seems able to step back and take a deep breath and realize that, provided the right circumstances, kids really like learning.

And I understand how seductive fear can be. I fall prey to it in my own teaching, and when I think about what I'd do if I were in charge of educating a whole town's worth of kids—or even a dozen at a time—I start to have "responsible" fears about how ready the average child is to make their own educational decisions. That's nonsense, just like it's nonsense to think that eight-year-olds can't be trusted to decide whether they're cold or not. As educators, our job should be to accept kids as they are, and do the best we can to make learning appealing: not forcing facts and methods into kids' heads, but creating an environment where they can explore what interests them and make their own educational path.

It's possible that doing that on a large scale would be a disaster, or even that I won't be able to manage it for our tiny farm-school co-op. But maybe it can work... and I'm not afraid to try!

Especially when I get free farm work out of the deal!

Our own Thanksgiving dinner last night was lovely. With three adults and seven kids in attendance we didn't go in for elegance, but everyone was happy with something on the table—turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, rolls, cauliflower gratin, canned corn, steamed carrots; we cater to all tastes. Well, almost all: the visiting one-month-old drank milk at a separate seating. As chaotic as it was, we were so thankful to share our turkey and our home with friends.

And I've complained before about the lateness of US Thanksgiving, but this year it seems about right. I just finished putting down manure and mulch in the garden, so it seems like the perfect time to relax for a weekend and eat lots of food. Then the Christmas preparations can begin.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!