We all piled in the 4Runner for a Sunday field trip to Costco. Henry's buckles were snapped in and Becky turned the key.

Groan, click, click, click.

We sighed. "Try it again."

Click, click, click. "Well, time for a new battery."

The day before it started but needed to crank really hard. The battery is 12 years old, so we quickly decided to buy a new one. The field trip rolled back into the house and Henry ran for the fridge, opened it, grab something, and shut the door. Very quickly he walked to where I stood and placed a package of AAA batteries in front of me. Problem solved.

When I returned with a new battery I was told that all of the cars had been placed uniformly on the kitchen floor. When Becky asked what was happening to the cars she was given a simple answer. "Car needs a battery."

 

Sometimes you see the wheels spinning clearly in Henry's eyes and for a brief moment you know precisely the assumptions and choices that led him to his present conclusion. If you blink you'll miss your chance and the revealing moment will scurry back into the ether (like Bigfoot into the deep woods). I cherish these moments when I catch them.

Whenever Henry sprouts a new 1/4 inch in height, he drifts around and tries to touch everything he couldn't the week before. Call it doing rounds. He's still unable to flick on our gas fireplace, but is close enough to call my attention to the switch. He stretched his arm up as much as he could and showed deep desire in his eyes.

"That switch isn't safe. We can't turn the fire on." I waved my hands in a "no" sign.

He processes it for a few moments, then almost turned white.

"The fire isn't safe."

He seriously looked around the room and keyed in on the baseboards. He then began slowly touching the baseboards, looking up at the switch, meeting my eyes, and then repeated himself -- all with deep intensity.

The conclusion was clear -- that switch made fire shoot out of our baseboards. If he wants to believe that and stay away from the switch, I think that's great.

Now that the dust has settled on Halloween we can confirm that Henry collected a ton of candy thanks to two Trunk-or-Treats and a single lap through a Chugiak subdivision.

The odd thing is that we had zero visitors at our home. Knowing we would be away, we turned on the porch light and placed a basket of candy on the salt bucket, clear and obvious. Because I'm wired up this way, I counted 15 kit-kats to lay on top of the plethora of suckers. There was plenty of candy for all visitors, but knowing how many kit-kats were in play would allow us to reverse engineer the happenings. All 15 remained. What a dud. I can't think they pushed them aside to get at the suckers.



After many years unscathed in the hands of cousins Cody and Nick, Henry has become the one to defeat the forklift. To be clear, lately it has been declared a Feller Buncher and has spent its time lifting and cutting plastic trees. Maybe those trees were just too big (probably redwoods).

I hadn't anticipated putting on a few bits of a costume, but my foreman below seemed to encourage it. (Also, it seemed wise given the dark streets in Chugiak). Whether Henry was Bob the Builder, a regular construction guy, or Uncle Randy, the important fact is that he was on the job and ready to drive a Feller Buncher.

Off we walked holding Henry's hands, his bag, and wearing a few blinking lights. Thanks to the warmer (38 degrees) weather this year and Henry's longer legs, we added a few more homes and cul-de-sacs to our route. He was up for all of it and his "trick or treat" and "thankyou" only grew in volume and confidence as the night wore on. We only assisted in carrying him up some staircases (to speed things up) and politely pulling his hand away as he began to grab for repeat handfuls. He was in a groove.





Unlike times past, he's Randy's buddy all day long.

We headed off to St Elizabeth's Trunk or Treat on Friday night not knowing completely what to expect. We had a sense of the concept, but were not sure what to make of the requirement to decorate your vehicle. We were unsure if this meant you could only participate if you decorated your car, which made us wonder if we would be out of place with our plain 4Runner. So, we brought candy anyway in case our trunk ended up being in the mix. It all ended up being too much thinking about a simple thing. 90% of the vehicles merely brought kids to the party, while a minority tricked out their trunks and handed out candy. We happily walked Henry through the circuit in the lot where he whispered "Trick or Treat" and "Thankyou" to each person.



Even better, he happily kept his costume on with zero fidgeting. People waved at "Bob the Builder" all night long, but I must confess that we only intended Henry to be a construction worker. He wore work boots, Carhartts, a helmet, and sported a hammer and a mustache. We often reminded him that he was "on the job."

We met up with Casey and spent a little time walking around the Halloween party. We even took another pass through the Trunk or Treat parking lot with Casey (no, we didn't double dip). The party inside was filled with kids of all ages, though it seemed that 3rd and 4th graders were the majority. I did enjoy a table littered with scary stories the 4th grade class had written for any one's perusal -- lots of "Haunted Castles" and "Spooky Graveyards". My favorite was "The Zombie in the Dark" -- I love that the zombie had to be in the dark to get it done. Great people, great event, and fun stories.



Come Saturday afternoon I needed my construction helper to fix the cabinet under the sink, so Henry was dispatched to find his tools and help Daddy. We know he never misses a chance to use his drill. After a few laps through the living room a deep sadness crept across his face, followed by a trembling lip, and a growing wail. It was a deeper sadness that the usual terrible twos occurrences we usually find ourselves in.

Becky identified it immediately."Oh no! We'll find your drill!" And it was soon found. The poor guy was facing a future without a drill to help Daddy. Close call.

The one thing to be sure of was that he would be digging in immediately, as you can see in the video below. The only question that remains is if properly bonded workmen are allowed to report for jobs without any pants.

The odd weather continues and our daytime temps remain in the 40s, so we keep heading back to the playground with Casey as often as possible. Our bodies are shifting to winter as the crock pot is on more often and Henry is enjoying more indoor activities (like the musical instruments now in the rotation). Henry always loves the drums shown in the above video, though much of the time they are declared "alternators" and inserted underneath the big plastic fire truck. Hank is always on the job when it comes to fixing trucks.

Nothing lasts forever, especially alternators. On the drive home Monday my battery light kicked on and after some multimeter tests the diagnosis was final. Hank and I hit Auto Zone for a rebuilt alternator and we planned for Randy to come by and help within the next few days.

Randy arrived, headed to the bathroom to change into some work clothes, and left standing his orange bucket filled with sockets, pry bar, and a light. Henry was excited in a 100 different ways so I decided to give him a clean socket wrench for him to click away. Daylight was burning so off we hurried. Henry was told to stay inside, finish his dinner, and wave goodbye to the guys that were going to fix Daddy's truck.

Becky reported that he made it halfway through dinner before running around the living room, collecting up his plastic hammer and drill, and heading for the door. Soon Randy and I were welcomed by the curious foreman. Henry spent some time staring at us, the dusty engine, and our filthy hands.

It all worked out and after a jump the engine roared while the multimeter read thumbs up. Randy and I did not speak it out loud at the time out of fear of invoking a curse, but it was way too easy -- 40 minutes with the jump.




It's all sled dogs, butterflies, crackers and fruit chewies up here.