Weather: Raining. A dreary day.

Reading: Almost done Bag of Bones. I'm racing through it, eager to move on to something else. I think it had some potential but just dragged on too long, as is the case with too many Stephen King novels.

Anticipating: A Christmas trip to Maine in mid-December, courtesy of Mom. Last year she and my sisters and their daughters went to Portland for a weekend in December. They stayed in a hotel, went shopping, and had a lot of fun. They've invited me to come with them this year, so I've just made my plane reservations. Can't wait!

Little Bugs

I have the Halloween question answered. Since Tab always calls the twins his "little bugs," I thought Matthew could dress up as a bee and Stephen as a ladybug. I didn't feel like making their costumes from scratch so Daniel and I went to a Halloween store on Friday, where I bought yellow wings for Matthew, a red and black spotted smock-like costume for Stephen, and deelie-bopper antennae for both of them. I think we have black pants and sweatshirts they can wear. I'll add yellow felt stripes to Matthew's black sweatshirt to complete his bee costume. When Tab takes them around the neighborhood on Halloween night, he's going to carry an insect net and tell everyone that he's an entomologist.

This is probably the last time that the choice of Halloween costumes will be mine alone. Already this year, Stephen had been asking to dress up as Peter Pan or a "ghostes," as he pronounces it. He accepted the idea of being a ladybug with a minimum of protest, however. Matthew is quite excited about dressing as a bumblebee and is already threatening to sting his brothers.

One of Daniel's daily homework assignments is his "journal." He is supposed to write between five and ten sentences on various topics. On Friday he came home with a two-inch tall plastic Indian his teacher had given him. He is supposed to keep the Indian with him all weekend and write about it in his journal. Here is what he wrote tonight:

My Indian

My Indian is little and green. He stands up. I got him at school. I carry him in a K'Nex basket. I take him with me everywhere. I took him in the car. I took him in the shower. I put him near my bed. Tomorrow I will take him to school.

This assignment reminded me of the children's classic, The Indian in the Cupboard. I had picked up a copy of this book at a used book sale last year, so this weekend I found it on the shelf and started reading it to Daniel. It's the magical story of a boy and his plastic toy Indian, which comes to life when it is placed in a cupboard that is locked with a special key.

I'd actually never read this one before, and I'm a little uncomfortable reading aloud Little Bear's "Me Tonto" dialogue. Several decades of political correctness have made me hyper-sensitive to what could be perceived as condescension. Of course, it is only my problem, and one that bothers Daniel not at all. With the unerring perception of the young, he focused only on the important part of the story: when I finished the first chapter today, he said, wistfully, "I wish I had a cupboard."

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