Zoo Boo

It was a beautiful Saturday, so knowing there won't be many more of these left in the year we headed down to the Indianapolis Zoo this afternoon for their annual Halloween celebration, Zoo Boo.

Although David couldn't have cared less whether he was costumed or not, we dressed him up anyway in this little chicken suit I found at Old Navy last weekend.  I chose it for the price and the simple fact that it was one of the few things left available in his size that wasn't pink or glittery in some way. And, let's face it, this might be my last year of being a benevolent dictator when it comes to choosing a costume, so I figured I might as well pick out something cute. Next year he'll probably ask to be the Incredible Hulk or something. Made of fleece and more like a sweatsuit than a goofy get-up, it kept him comfy and toasty warm in the chill air.  AND he looked incredibly adorable, which goes without saying.  We must have had twenty compliments.

He enjoyed the exhibits and gawking at all of the other kids in their costumes. He "trick-or-treated" a bit and devoured his first candy, a Twizzler.  (I know, ridiculous that we waited this long, just trying to avoid passing on my own sweet tooth too early).

He rode the carousel with Cory, which spun backwards as a little weird Halloween twist. He only screamed a bit in protest when it came time to disembark, a tradition he started at the State Fair this year. A little embarrassing, but as long as we can still carry him away, we're good.

I was able to capture his flirtatious gaze, one in which he is perfecting. The lady sitting next to me on a bench was the lucky recipient of this precious face. My little heartbreaker.

It was so crowded I couldn't get decent pictures of him checking out the animals, but oh well. Sometimes I get so caught up in capturing moments that I forget to enjoy them while they are happening. This is the best one I could get of him against the glass with a tiger pacing within mere inches (he's the little white and orange blob, upper right corner). He did a little excited dance when it came near, and was fearless.

All in all we had a ball. We are continually amazed at his good spirit and adventurousness. With his newfound independence he can be a handful at times, but he seems to know when we're trying to do something special for him. I love that.

For Cory's birthday I surprised him with a family portrait session by a local photographer, Katherine Scheele. The setting for our photos was our beloved downtown Zionsville, the time a gorgeous October afternoon.

I agonized over our outfit choices, worried about the weather, fretted about David's mood and willingness to have his picture taken.

The results were nothing less than amazing. Katherine is an artist. We couldn't be happier.

I'll let the images speak for themselves...

Swoon.

She captured our family so perfectly. I will treasure these forever.

Dear David,

"Dah" was one of your first words. When you see a dog, it brings instant joy and curiosity, an eagerness to get a bit closer. It's how we lure you away from the playground, to point out a dog and follow it right out of the park. It's the only way, really, that we avoid hauling you away kicking and screaming, engaged in a full-scale tantrum, reluctant to leave. You are always eager to follow that puppy, see where it's going, what it's doing. Big ones, little ones, mean ones, nice ones, you don't care. Any dog is your instant friend, at least from your point of view.

When we're outside, you plop down on the property line and watch the neighbor's yard in hopes that one of their puppies might appear. When they do, you are elated. You point them out on TV, in books. You throw your puppy blanket over our heads and demand that we "woof". And we do, every time.

Although the loss of our beloved Sammy and Casper still seems like yesterday to us, it was ages ago on your scale of development. When they were still around, you were barely mobile. You didn't say much, and seemed only mildly aware of their presence, having yet to do that jig of excitement that the sight of a dog brings on these days. Sure, you were anxious to get at them (much to their dismay), but at that time you were into just about anything and everything anyway. You didn't appreciate the fact that you had such treasured objects, the future objects of your passionate affection, in your very own home. That makes me a little sad.

We'd give you just about anything, we really would. But we've got to draw the line somewhere. Time is so precious. We want to enjoy YOU and OUR LIVES and still have a little time to breathe. And I'll be honest, I want a clean house, at least as clean as your toddler self will allow. A puppy just doesn't fit into that plan, at least right now.

Maybe by the time you can read this we will be ready to bite the bullet. Until then, the plastic dog at Old Navy will just have to do. By the looks of this picture, that might just be enough to keep you happy.

Love, Mom