Yesterday I took Christopher trick-or-treating the first time.

Our house is on an acre lot and so are the rest of the houses on the street. Christopher insisted on walking on his own (with Monkey, his backpack/ safety harness of course) so we only made it about 8 houses or so before he started getting too tired.

The nice lady who lives at the house next to our neighbor insisted on walking us around since she didn't have her 2-year-old nephew to walk around (he was too sick).

That's when I learned about elderly Floridians inviting strange people into their houses, but that's a whole different post.

I set out our own Halloween candy on the porch while we were out trick-or-treating. As far as I can tell we didn't get a single trick-or-treater so the bowl was still filled to the brim.

So last night after the boy passed out I went to go get ice cream. Before I left I brought the big bowl of candy for the nonexistent trick-or-treaters in and put it beside the front door. I didn't care that it was within easy reach of Christopher because he was asleep.

While I was gone Christopher woke up and was inconsolable and looking for me so Chris let him out of the bedroom to run off some energy. I was already on my way back at this point. When I got back I found Christopher rifling through the candy in the (normally toddler-safe) entry way.

I didn't think anything of it until this morning when Christopher reached into a formerly candy-devoid toy box and pulled out a lollipop.

He'd pulled out several items from the candy bowl and squirreled them away in various places in the house.

I honestly do not know whether to encourage this behavior or not. On one hand he was thinking of the future and making sure he'd have candy available; on the other hand I need to go make sure we're not going to get ants.

Another day, another new challenge with a toddler.

Today he figured out how to undo the bungees that keep him from opening our back gate. Since the child requires constant supervision anyway I got to watch this process unfold.

He's got a lot of patience for an 18-month-old. At least when it comes to figuring out how to thwart something in his way. Half my job is making sure he doesn't come to harm while/after thwarting all of the obstacles meant to keep him safe.

It's an exasperating and exhausting job.

Someone's gotta do it.

It's our younger daughter's 11th birthday.

Today...

I learned that sometimes the craving for caffeine is a sign that shit's about to get interesting.

I learned that I can do certain portions of Chris's job while under pressure.

My best laid plans died a horrible death while I was doing the above.

I woke up this morning to find my 15-month-old replaced by a child with the mental and emotional development of a two-year-old and the willful streak to match.

I learned that prepping for dinner can be enough entertainment for two children...

Provided it doesn't take too long.

I learned that I still shouldn't attempt cooking angel hair pasta because I still suck at it.

I discovered my 130-lb dog has decided the boy is an awesome playmate, and that he must object to the boy going to bed before he's played enough.

I learned I only have so much tolerance for being kicked.

Life is full of little lessons.

Yes, I'm alive. Really I am.

Avoid writing? No, I don't do that, not at all...

Um, yeah. I do.

Here's the deal... I have this BIG fiction project that's been percolating in my mind for a year and a half. And I've been avoiding working on it for a year and a half, much to my detriment.

Much like I've been avoiding writing on this blog.

Wonder if there's any connection?

So what am I doing? I'm dedicating time every day to the big fiction project.

And so I don't wimp out, I'm doing it before I do anything else in the morning other than feed the kiddo, get dressed, and have my tea.

I haven't even had my adderall yet.

Thus why I'm sitting on the couch, watching the baby escape through the doggie door to explore the back yard, play in the dog's water, and get muddy.

I'm surrounded by dirty clothes, dirty dishes, scattered toys, and piles of stuff that needs to be dealt with.

Still, here I am, laptop at the ready, writing before doing anything else that's "necessary". Because writing is necessary too.

I've heard tell that famous writers have desks, and order, and solitude.

I'm surrounded by mess, watching the baby get dirty, with the sounds of Ice Age in the background.

Meh, I'll take what I can get.