Know when to run

I got a call from my friend Seana last week. She had a little story to tell. She and her husband Dave live in the southern part of Florida with their three kids (who are, incidentally, the same ages and gender as ours). It seems that when you live in a relatively undeveloped part of southern Florida, you might just step out into your front yard with your children to play, as you've done hundreds of times before, and instead of a neighborhood kid there to greet you, you might just find something else. Something REPTILIAN. Something like An Alligator. And not a small one. Seana kept her cool, ushering the kids quickly back inside and calling the Alligator Guy (because there actually is an Alligator Guy) to come and use his cool alligator trapping tools to capture the uninvited guest. Seana, understandably, has been a touch rattled since she's had this little Discovery Channel episode play out within a few feet of her small children. I'm fairly certain I would NOT have handled things this well. I'm fairly certain I would have RUN. I'm not generally apocalyptic in my thinking, but I have wondered before when I'm out with the kids by myself, that if for some reason I had to gather them up in my arms and get away from something (a tornado, a charging rhino..) whether or not I'd be able to do it. Maybe I'll start doing push-ups or something.

We went to the zoo today. This giant candy corn received more attention than any animals we saw. As you can tell from her stance, Harper is, I am certain, saying something like, "Hudson, come and enjoy this giant candy corn with me, please!"

I let Harper have the camera for a little while and she took an array of blurry shots and a few good ones. Our friend Izzy (who has made it very clear that she someday plans to be a part of our family in the role of Hudson's wife) and her doll:
Another shot of the candy corn:
And I thought this one had a certain something: