We're heading over to a Thanksgiving party in a little while. I even heard a rumor about vegan pie. Just the possibility has me feeling truly grateful.


Untitled from Savvy Mom on Vimeo.

There's a new stage happening here. Shef asks bazillions of questions all the time. Here's a sample of today's inquiries between the hours of ten and twelve: Can boys get married with boys? Does everyone have a dad? Is there just black night sky all around the planet? How can I feel the planet? What happens when everyone dies? What time is it in Senegal? What time is it in Senegal now? And, how do we kill turkeys?

This last one was prompted by a tapestry at church which features pilgrim men marching along with muskets behind the Thanksgiving table.

I did a little blah-blahing about how all the meat we eat comes from animals, and we have to kill them in ways that cause them the least pain possible.

"But how do we KILL the turkeys?" Shef said, undeterred.

I sighed. "Do you really want me to tell you?

"Yes," he said, his hands folded in front of his chest in anticipation.

"Well," I began, "I'm pretty sure the best way to do it is to hang the turkey upside-down by its feet, so all the blood runs to its head. And then, after a little while, you cut its head off, and let the blood drain out into a bucket."

I expected Shef to be horrified, but of course he wasn't.

He took a big inhale and looked gleeful. "Can I DO it?" he asked. "Do you use a BIG KNIFE?"

I was saved from answering these questions by the beginning of Church School, during which our cherub was cast in the role of Joseph for the Living Nativity. I'm sure he won't have any questions about that.

So, yesterday, I was changing Mac’s poopy diaper, and there was a piece of Styrofoam in it. Isn’t that nice? He had been playing with a little Styrofoam boat Shef made at school, and apparently he ate some of it.

I had to call the doctor and ask if he might die because of it. Were there any secret, poisonous properties of Styrofoam that would slowly seep into his bloodstream and become toxic?

The answer was no to that question, but the doctor was none too thrilled that he’d eaten petrochemicals.

Dan wants me to tell you that he has a new Top Chef Showdown blog. It's here. Since none of us scored any points last week, Dan is accepting new cheftestants.

Everyone should play. There appears to be a real prize and everything.

Guest posted by Dan

Brett Favre. Michael Jordan. Garth Brooks. Grover Cleveland. Me.

Due to overwhelming popular demand, I have agreed to come out of my blogtirement to run another season of the Top Chef Showdown - the reality show contest that took the blogosphere by storm one year ago.

The Savvy Mom has graciously agreed to host the competition on her blog (though she has enforced some unnecessarily draconian "rules" about when and how I can post on her blog). To be a part of this history-making contest, you need only (1) watch Top Chef; and (2) be awesome.

Here's how it works: Before each week's episode, I will post a preview of the challenges the chefs will face. In the comments to that blog post, you need to make three picks: (1) Quickfire challenge winner; (2) Elimination challenge winner; and (3) Which chef will be eliminated.

It's that easy!

This week's episode is called "Show Your Craft:"

Tom Colicchio takes it home to his very first restaurant tonight as the chefs are asked to serve more than just judges – although the customers' opinions may make them long for the tried-and-true.

"Mom," Shef began while we were waiting in the car for Dan to get our Thai food, "be sure to shake your butt before you go to bed tonight."

"Shef, don't say butt," I said, regretting his trip to Madagascar II this week, which is apparently heavy on butt-jokes.

"Okay, well what I meant was, shake your booty before you go to bed."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Dad likes that."

"Hmmm," I said. "And how do you know?"

"Because Dad told me!" Shef said.

So, when Dan got back in the car, I related this conversation to him verbatim. When we got to the last line, Shef piped up from the backseat, "Dad, I just made that up!"

Indeed. Just like he made up for his babysitter last weekend the story that he'd seen Harry Potter "lots of times" with his mom and dad. And just like he convinced my sister when he was barely three that he always rides the merry-go-round at the Mall of America by himself. "Come ON, Aunt Mary," he said. "TRUST me."

The new kid is five months old now. He's got some new tricks. For instance, he's obsessed with his tongue - sticking it out, wiggling it around, rubbing it on his razor-sharp bottom teeth. He also laughs, mostly at Shef.



Another thing he likes to do is grab on to things and push them back and forth. I have documented this interest in this video:



Untitled from Savvy Mom on Vimeo.