This was Max’s weekend at our house. On Friday night Kathy cooked him a hamburger—I guess he’s forgone the vegetarianism he maintained early in life. I enticed him into a game of War and we didn’t have a war until we were almost through the pack. I won that one and Shane came in to tell him it was time for bed. Shane granted him five more minutes to play and Max put down his cards and said, “I’m going to play something else for five minutes!” Evidently he wanted to maximize the value of those five minutes and playing cards with the old man was not gonna get it. The allure of video games can be too much at times. He was playing one called Up Your Arsenal—fortunately he’s too young to get the joke.

On Saturday, I did hit on something he liked. I had a pair of walkie talkies that I was holding until he was old enough to be able to use them. I brought them out, showed him how to use them and then we played walkie talkie hide and seek. He ran off and I “hid” on the front steps. I had him going up and down the stairs inside the house until he finally found me outside. We played a couple of rounds and had a great time laughing at each other.

On Sunday we drove out to the country and took Max and Shane to the farm where we have been taking Max since he was two years old. This year he was looking forward to seeing the pumpkin cannon and the hay bale maze. When he was younger, he couldn’t see over the bales so it made for a more interesting experience. Now he can easily find his way through. This year he was eager to try to corn maze, as well. Years ago he was immediately frightened by the high corn stalk walls and turned right around and crashed through them to get out. This time he navigated the field very easily. The hay ride was another attraction and we enjoyed a nice comfy ride around the field. We bought some pumpkins and gourds and squash for our holiday decorations and had fun walking around on a beautiful sunny day.

The farmer uses an air compressor to power his pumpkin cannon and it used to be mounted on an old vintage fire engine—quite a sight. This year the fire engine was gone. I asked him about it and he said he turned it into scrap! At first I thought he was kidding, but he went on to say that it was loaded with 900 pounds of brass, and even the motor was valuable. He wound up with about $7,000, having paid his neighbor $500 for it years ago. Still, I was sorry to see it go, since it was probably worth something in terms of history, but maybe not seven thousand dollars worth. Besides, with fuel costs tripling in this past year, I suppose he made an economic decision not colored by sentiment.

From the Wild Animal Department: the other day Kathy saw a mouse skitter into the heat vent in the kitchen and she screamed like a cartoon character. I was immediately dispatched to the hardware store to buy traps. I set one by the suspect vent another by the refrigerator. Kathy suggested I put one in the hole that the goofy electrician punched in the basement ceiling a couple years ago. The hole leads right to an open space under the family room. Sure enough, the remains of Stuart Little were found in that trap the next day. Cute little fellow—nice ears, tailored jacket. His hat was lost in the melee, though.