In honor of pretending that we actually have an Autumn season in the beginning of October, all five of us made our way to Oma's Pumpkin Patch. We learned about cow births (one every day!), hung out with itty bitty baby goats, waved to inanimate objects, took awful pictures in those head board things, and realized that this is where people come to take pictures of their 3 month old alien babes nestled in a bundle of hay. Saw a lot of that, and I guess we did the same thing last year. Sometimes it's hard to remember little Bear as a little blob, especially with him being able to throw away my trash for me (if I ask nicely) and pointing to everything and knowing its name. Shower is shower, screens are shows, and juice is juice. Are we already almost approaching his 20th month of life? You're closer to 2 than 1, Mr. Bear, so I guess we'll stop counting your life by the months and start checking off the years. My new goal is to write you letters--something a little more formal than this electronic journal we've got here (which I hope you enjoy reading one day), and something a little more tangible. Until then, I hope to document the little things. Cliche, yes. But also important, I think. Even though I've got some weird memory, a good one at times, I still forget about moments, and, more importantly, milestones. I guess this is just a hope to give you what I wish I had for myself. We could say that this is in part for me as well, and it definitely is, but those parts of myself that you are involved in. And, these days, those are some of the best.
P.S. We got the prettiest pumpkins that we have no intention of carving. 
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