This is Jason's baby. His name is Deet. (I don't know why.) This was Eva's gift to her big brother upon the occasion of her birth. From what I can tell—and from what Jason tells me—Deet appears to be a nudist. (I don't know why.)

There were some surprisingly resilient blue bubbles at a birthday party we went to this weekend.

On Sunday, Juliette and Jason made some chocolate-chip-banana-apple-carrot-spinach bread. You wouldn't know it from the name, but it was actually quite tasty.

My baby, pushing her baby.

This is a picture of my baby girl with a mustache. That is all.

I remember doing this when I was Jason's age, falling asleep in the middle of a party, under a table or in a corner, waking up only when it was time to go.

Actually, I remember doing that in college, too, but I guess that's a different story.

I realize that I sound like a grumpy, old curmudgeon—and this is not entirely inaccurate—but when I was a kid, pumpkin patches were just farms where you could buy pumpkins, not the huge affairs with hay rides and pony rides and food vendors (and petting zoos, bouncy castles, haybale mazes, craft fairs, and so on, and so on) that I see these days. There was a time when the excess of it all did, in fact, make me grumpy. But you know what? These new-fangled pumpkin patches? They're pretty fun. And the kids love going.

Look at how un-curmudgeonly I'm being. I'm as surprised as you are. Go me.

The prospect of a pony ride was sufficient to distract Jason from both the availability of ice cream cones and my willingness to purchase them during our trip to the pumpkin patch this past weekend. Say one thing for this kid, he's got focus.

Mind you, as soon as the pony ride was done, it was time for ice cream.

(Who goes to a pumpkin patch in September, anyway? Us, apparently.)

The question is, which one is being impatient here?

While we were in Maine, the family and I decided to take a trip to the L. L. Bean store. We told Jason that he could have one thing. He picked this lobster. (And a pair of gloves, but that's another story.) He then told us that the lobster's name is Buster Tree. I don't know why. But it stuck.