Bolt

"Cat and dog one, Mommy?" 

It all started with a simple request. Jackson had seen a commercial on TV for a movie; however, he must not have caught the title of the picture -- Bolt. A minor detail. In need of a late afternoon activity, I suggested we walk to Blockbuster and look for the "cat and dog one." Forty-five minutes later we came out empty-handed (well, not exactly we did rent Lady and the Tramp). Not without effort -- Jackson thoroughly  searched every corner, every shelf of that store. He even asked the young man behind the counter to look. "Cat and dog one, man?" he demanded. I'll give the Blockbuster guy credit -- he did produce a movie actually titled "Cats and Dogs." Jackpot!  But no, this was not the movie in question Jackson confirmed. 

Then I actually saw the commercial, and the mystery was solved. Which gave us another late afternoon activity the following day -- walk to the cinema and find out what times Bolt was playing. The fact he could not see the movie "now" was beyond Jackson's understanding. You can't blame the kid -- he has grown up in a TV world run by inventions like DVR and TiVo (God Bless their inventors).  So we took home a flyer with movie times, agreeing we would talk with Papa that night and decide a time Jackson could go see Bolt. 

4:40 p.m. Thursday. Jackson could not wait. I even had to find trailers online that he could watch over and over again to partially satisfy his appetite for this movie. He took an early nap, woke up, got dressed, filled his wallet with Australian coin. He couldn't have been more ready. As I watched Drew and Jackson walk into the cinema from the car, I could see him proudly holding out his wallet as he approached the ticket counter. And of course, being a mere mortal mom and tears quickly filled my eyes as my baby boy experienced this first. 

But Bolt was something Jackson wanted to do, not to watch. As Drew tells it, they never actually sat down -- just watched the previews from outside the door until the ushers had to shut the doors. Then Jackson told Drew he wanted to go  home. Maybe all he really wanted was the blue Gatorade and popcorn that he brought home. (It has been a full two weeks since we splurged on our daily serving of movie theatre quality popcorn at G&G Parker's.) 

In any case, with all "firsts," Drew and I are learning our expectations may not match our three-year old's. And sometimes it is the journey he enjoys even more than the final destination. I think it will be very easy to forever remember the title of the first movie Jackson ever "saw" at the movie theatre. Bolt. 

Hint

Along the line of resolutions, here is how Jackson clued Drew in on what his ought to be. We were setting the dinner table tonight, and I asked Jackson to ask Drew what he would like to drink. 

"Pa-PA!" Jackson yelled. "Would like some beers?" 

OK. Maybe it is time for the adults to cut back on a certain substance. 

Eight suitcases

And eight suitcases later (five more than we left with), we are back in Brisbane. That was the damage done during our one-month holiday vacation in Morton. We pretty much declared everything possible when we went through customs because we weren't actually certain of the contents of our suitcases. Drew took a dump, sit and zip approach to packing, which I was thankful for because then I didn't spend hours doing it. (I am manic about organizing my suitcases, and it takes forever.) Actually, we were sure what was in our eight suitcases -- it was all toys. Truly. Days one through five our upstairs looked like a tornado had come through -- just a kind one that left toys. Then I had the great idea to just move all of that mess downstairs into the toy room, planning we would organize it once it was done there. But days six through seven, that has yet to happen. Patience. I told Drew I feel like I am living in a toy landfill. 

So my New Year's resolution is to keep up with this blog and all other electronic communications for that matter. (I should probably add cell phone communication to the list since I am horrible at that. I'm going to say that is genetic and blame my dad.) However, in addition to Jackson and Maeve, two other resolutions may compete with the first. 1) Entourage and 2) our resolution to drink more wine on the back porch. But who are we kidding? We are so jet lagged and exhausted once the kids fall asleep so do we, and all of these resolutions are abandoned. There is always tomorrow . . . 

Asleep on the job

Apparently, a power nap is all Maeve needs mid-mealtime. For the second time in a row, she feel asleep while eating. The first time we were out to dinner on the last day of our New Zealand trip. That I thought I understood; there were many long days and she was justified in her desire for sleep. But the second time she was just sitting in her high chair, eating a banana while I cooked dinner. Too cute. 

Aussie Halloween

We had a great, celebrated Halloween in a country that doesn't officially recognize it. Although some Australians take a 'it's not our holiday' approach, it seems a growing majority are realizing it is nothing more than a chance to spend more money and eat more sugar. What could suit their 'no worries' philosophy better? 

For the second year, the shops in our neighborhood offered trick-or-treating so we seized the opportunity. Maeve was a ballerina; Jackson was a baseball player, although we're not sure how many people actually understood that costume. There were lots of witches, pirates and the likes roaming the streets, so Jackson wasn't so sure what to think at first. But he is no fool, and quickly warmed up to the idea of taking candy from anyone who was offering. Maeve and Jackson had fun surveying the loot together once we got home. (Somehow Maeve ended up smelling like chocolate.) 

Thanks to the local fruit stand, we were also able to carve a traditional looking pumpkin. We picked one of four at the price of $18. Unfortunately, it only lasted one night as some critter got into it over night. We can be pretty sure it wasn't a squirrel, as was always the case in Illinois, so now our imaginations are left to work . . . possum, kangaroo, poisonous snake? 

Our neighbors on both sides were so kind to think of Jackson and Maeve and honored their American holiday -- it was really great. I just wish we had a few more trick-or-treaters knock on our door . . . instead Drew's office will have the opportunity for a sugar rush come Monday morning. 

Landscaping

Yesterday Jackson was using his diggers to play in our landscaping. I was trying to explain to him that we weren't going to move the rocks from the landscaping onto the driveway. "Yep," he said. "This lamb scaping. Lambs eat that." 

You are so your . . .

. . . father. Jackson tonight was running around in his underwear repeating, "Two girls. Jackson's house. Mommy open door." A dreamer, like his papa. 

. . . brother. Later while I was changing Maeve's diaper she was squirming about, so I said, "Maever, you're a little stinker," to which she replied with the biggest belly laugh. Already ornery at five months.