Abby's been wearing the same haircut, at various lengths, since she's been getting her hair cut. At yesterday's haircut, she said she wanted her a "boy haircut". I said that I thought it wouldn't make her happy. We discussed it with the hairdresser, who said she thought she knew what we wanted. Then Abby excused me. I came back to find the sweetest haircut, and so feminine. Yet Abby is sure that it is a "boy cut" and is perfectly happy. A good hairdresser can please both mom and daughter.

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Earlier this week, a package arrived for Wilson and Abby from their grandparents. It was filled with Easter goodies, including Cadbury cream eggs, Beanie Baby Easter bears, M&M dispensers disguised as Easter bunnies, and 2 large caramel-corn Easter bunnies with candy eyes and candy carrots for noses.

Wilson is convinced that his caramel-corn Easter bunny is a crocodile. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he insisted, turning it on its back and repositioning it. And I've got to admit that if I use just a bit of imagination, I can see it, too. The long ears of the bunny could double as the long snout of the crocodile. We can't really explain the carrot on top of the croc's head, but otherwise, it's believable.

You be the judge.

Abby has a copy of The Daring Book for Girls by Miriam Peskowitz (in addition to her copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys). On page 82 she finds "The Daring Girls Guide to Danger" which gives a list of things that any daring girl should do to face her fears and push herself to new heights to inspire her to face challenges throughout her life. Here is the abbreviated list:

• Ride a roller coaster.
• Ride a zip line across the canopy of a rain forest.
• Go white-water rafting.
• Have a scary movie festival in your living room.
• Wear high heels.
• Stand up for yourself-or someone else.
• Try sushi or another exotic food.
• Dye your hair purple.

Abby has always had a strong sense of justice and readily stands up for herself and others. Number 6? Check.

Abby has a pair of high heel brown boots that were handed down to her from Chelsea. She readily wears these to everywhere but school. Maybe they don't fit her school image, or more likely they aren't practical for what I understand are very active recesses. Number 5? In progress.

Tonight Abby dyed her hair cherry red, her favorite color. She asked for this as soon as she read it in this book. Aside from it being a little costly, I honestly didn't have any good reason to not do it. We went to my stylist and she used a food-grade dye for safety. It is absolutely darling. Number 8? Check.

Everyone should have such a list. Abby is lucky to have found it, and I think it is only a matter of time before she starts adding her own things to the list to personalize it to her own needs and goals.

For the longest time, Wilson had 4 elephants. There was "Dah Unngh", "Ma Unngh", "Aa Unngh", and "Be Unggh". For those of you that don't speak Wilson's languange, that's Daddy Elephant, Mama Elephant, Abby Elephant, and Baby (or Wilson) Elephant. Since these photos were taken, though, we've added 2 more elephants to the family. One is a wooden 2-dimensional circus elephant that he just calls "Unngh" and the other is a smaller baby elephant that the Romero Family donated to the collection that Wilson also calls "Be Unggh". Abby tells him that it isn't okay to have 2 elephants with the same name. She keeps suggesting that he call it "Jack Paul Unggh", but he's having none of that yet.

The trouble with the damned elephants is that they are too heavy and too bulky for Wilson to actually carry around. We tried introducing him to several different bags, but as you can imagine, with all those legs and trunks and big ears, they are hard for a 2-year-old to get in and out of most bags. We finally settled on a bag from Godiva Chocolates. His first one got used so much that it was as soft as cotton before one of the strings finally gave out. Wilson's Grandmama was looking out for him, though, and has gotten him several spares from Godiva, so he will not be without. The bags are not a perfect solution, though. With all the elephants in it, and we never move without the whole family, it is really too heavy for him to carry for any length of time. But being an independent sort of boy, he also doesn't want our help in carrying the bag. Even when he is dropping the bag and spilling the elephants every 10 steps or so and crying in frustration.

In desperation, I spent a whole morning going down to Ikea to find Wilson a wagon-like cart for him to push his elephants in. It seemed a perfect solution. Clearly I hadn't thought it through. The cart is good until Wilson decides that the cart must be carried for some reason. If he sees a curb, an escalator, a bump, or any obstacle ahead, he insists that the cart be carried over the obstacle. This wouldn't be unreasonable, except that the boy has 20/20 vision and can see these obstacles hundreds of feet in advance and wants the cart lifted as soon as the obstacle is spotted. And most recently, he's come to the conclusion that I should just carry his cart as soon as we get out of the car, as if I don't have enough to tend to.

So I'm currently on strike as back-up elephant keeper and it is creating a lot of uproar around here. Wilson is overwhelmed by the burden of caring for these beasts and he really can't understand why I won't succomb to his cries for help. Sigh.

For the plastic animal lovers among you, we've posted a tasteful gallery of Wilson's pachyderm parade.

That about sums up Abigail's approach to everything, from breakfast to bath to baseball. All out, all the time. Big smiles, big tears, very noisy. Lots of moving parts. That is indeed our Abby!

Here are a couple of photos.

Some highlights include:

• Max, Jr. being sent upstairs to his crate where he barked as loud as he has ever barked his girly chirp-bark only to have his irritating cries utterly swallowed up by the din of laughing children.

• A terrifying grim reaper racing from room to room screaming "Die! Die!" to the terrified delight of his squealing victims.

• A full-on, get-down-on-the-dance-floor-get-back-up-again Halloween dance party in which every costumed guest laid it down so fearlessly and thoroughly that the scene bordered on performance art.

• The primal terror of hearing kids crying out to hear "that watching song" one more time. The "watching song" being Rockwell's early 1984 dance masterpiece "Somebody's Watching Me". If that doesn't make you shudder, a guest actually knew the artist, album, year, and some trivia involving the recording of the song! There are some memories that should stay repressed.

• Sweet, sweet, pumpkin juice in the kitchen (for parental consumption only).

• Michelle channeling the ghost of Amelia Earhart to the slack-jawed amazement of her guests.

Just kidding on that last part, it was actually Doug who contacted the dead. Still kidding!

Photos from the party

Photos are posted online. For the sake of privacy, this photo album is invitation-only. If you were at the party please drop the Manisfam a line with your e-mail address and we'll send you an invitation with dead-easy instructions for logging in.

Review the photo record.

Best of all, competitors must wear a kilt! I pretty sure they would wear one even if it weren't required. If you wear a Utilikilt, or want to wear one, go to a Highland Games. No one will judge you there. I nearly bought one myself.

Contests include the hammer throw, the light stone, the heavy stone, and the mother of all Highland tests, the caber toss, in which contestents grasp a log by its base, hoist it to their chest, and flip it so that the end they were holding lands furthest from them. I'm not kidding when I say "log". The thing is basically a tree with the branches removed. Most contestents can't even flip the darn thing. I respect anyone who can manage to lift it at all.

The gaming community is very close and supportive. Athletes routinely offer tips and encouragement to their opponents during play. The games are competitive, but the gamers seem to be more interested in growing the sport and making friendships than in beating each other. Also, a newbie could seriously injure themselves if they use bad technique, so these events are an opportunity to build up some serious karma.

Uncle Greg did very well, placing first in several events for an overall fourth place finish in a field of a couple of dozen. Greg is neither hairy nor red, but he is taller than most American men, and he plans to train hard for next year's season.

The Manisfam had loads of fun and snapped enough photos to cover a heavy stone.

We couldn't find an open campground in the entire state, so we set up camp in the backyard after a meal cooked in our own kitchen and woke with the sun to drive five blocks to a hearty hotcake breakfast from the pancake house. It was Abby and Max's first camping experience, so it was probably for the best that we practiced on our own land first.

Here are a couple of photos of the camping trip. Also a couple of Oompa and Wilson thrown in for good measure.