Alastair's hometown, that is, here in the leafy loveliness of Westchester county. We came down for the weekend, specifically for the unveiling of Alastair's grandmother's grave monument. She died around this time last year, and it's a (very nice, I think) Jewish tradition to visit the stone a year later. We said some words and prayers, and then the girls thought it would be fun to pick up the stones that we placed on Great Grandma's grave and move them to the other, neighboring graves and back again, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
That night, we took the girls out for their first official trick-or-treating experience. Like last weekend, at the Halloween party, Clio refused to wear her tutu, so we had one ballerina and one modern dancer -- or perhaps she was a ballerina in rehearsal. More power to her, I say. And so, we set out into the lovely, suburban twilight, our family of four (Mommy had had a low day, but managed to rally) plus Abu and dogs, Aki and Niko.
The girls got the hang of things pretty quickly. Though they have never actually eaten candy before (I don't think) let alone seen it in packaged form, they seemed to "get" that the brightly colored stuff people were offering to them from doorways was a good thing, and happily stashed it in their trick or treating receptacles. We couldn't get them to say "trick or treat" but they did say "please" and "thank you." (Not necessarily in that order.) Several times, our party girl, Elsa, shouted "yay!" while Clio took a more taciturn, business-like approach to the whole affair.
We attempted a pre-emptively nostalgic, "someday we'll look back at this and....something" photo in front of an Obama lawn sign at one of the houses we visited, but like most attempts at posed photos with the girls, it failed gloriously. This shot was my favorite on account of the Skittles and Peanut M&Ms in mid-fall. And the girls' utter oblivion to the import of this moment in American history.
A funny thing about Obama, though -- the name, not the man. It has become one of the girls' favorite words of late. I have Obama buttons on a couple of my jackets, which they point to and proclaim "Obama," but they've also taken to saying "Obama" randomly on various occasions. A couple of times this weekend, when frightened by Niko -- the more boisterous of the grandparents' two golden retrievers -- Clio has called out "Obama! Obama! Obama!" Like she's trying to summon him, Beetlejuice-like, to rescue her. Strange. And then again....
When we got home, the girls instinctively, without any parental prompting, did the traditional dumping of candy onto the floor to take inventory. We let them each have a little bit of chocolate after dinner, then promptly appropriated their haul as our own. (I don't expect we'll be able to pull this off next year.)
It's been a sweet weekend Elsa and Clio-wise, and a restorative one for moi, too. It's nice to have both the girls and ourselves taken good care of by Alastair's parents, and to not have anything pressing to do but rest, look after the girls, read, etc. I went into the city on Saturday for lunch with a friend, then walked from Union Square back up to Grand Central, soaking up the energetic, pre-election, Autumn-in-New-York vibe. I'm feeling a little more like myself today, which is a great relief -- though it may only be temporary. Two steps forward, one step back, and all that. But I am optimistic. Thanks again for all your comments on my last post. Your support and understanding mean the world. And to all of the fabulous women out there living with and battling depression, keep up the good fight -- we can win it.
