PoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop.

at 1:52 p.m. today. To say Sam is "relieved" is like saying "Richard Simmons is effeminate."

Poop Watch: Day 11

Yep, it's been 11 days and still no substantive bowel movement from our youngest.  The list of suggested home remedies has grown substantially however:

1. Caro (Dark Corn Syrup) dissolved in water (worked the first two times, but not this time, despite three attempts, so far); 
   
2. Pear Juice (not attempted yet, but likely queued up now);
3. Prune Juice (not attempted yet; pending medical review and approval); and, last but not least,
4. Latex glove, lots of lubricant and one pinky finger in the rear.  

I am not kidding about the last one.  That was one parent's suggestion, followed by, "I had tried everything else so I just gave it a shot and it finally made her poop."  

Oh. My. God. Sam and I would be in counseling for years.  We are NOT going to have that conversation someday, sorry.  So, kid, you better figure out how to pass it or suffer the consequences because I am not becoming your personal proctologist so we can call you "regular."

Lessons in Patience: Picking a Pumpkin.

Now that we have kids, picking a pumpkin for Halloween becomes a much more involved process.  Last year, we took Jack to the pumpkin patch to pick out his pumpkin for carving.  The "pumpkin patch" is the masquerading front lawn of a local church, raising money by charging unsuspecting passersby ungodly rates for oversized squash.  Jack loved last year's experience, and with Sam in tow this year, we ventured off to see which locally-grown orange sphere would grace our front patio this year.  And, of course, photo opportunities always abound.  

Jack decided that picking a proper Halloween decoration included lifting up the pumpkins and throwing them down, a move that immediately put the Patch Police on high alert.  We attempted to remedy the conduct, ensuring Jack understood that further trespass to the well being of the gourds would result in his prompt removal.  He continued, undeterred.  (It was later discovered that Captain Destructo was operating on a diminishing energy reserve, having woken up "too early" that morning, further compounded by not having been properly fed after church.)  Attempting civility (and a lame form of distraction), we tried taking family photo:

While Sam did his best Terry Shiavo impression, Jack, again, was uncooperative (notice Ashley's "death grip" to keep him in frame).  My patience grew thin, and sensing this, Jack swooped in for the kill: He decided to gather the straw laying around and hurl it at me.  

We grabbed the closest, near-round object we could find, paid quickly and left quicker.  Wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued immediately.  Nap time followed shortly thereafter.