I love Autumn. (Really, I call it "Fall" but "Autumn" sounds classier.) When I was a kid, Summer was the best season...followed closely by Winter. Growing up in Wisconsin, I never liked Spring very much because it seemed so fickle. It was mostly gray, muddy, chilly. Someone once said that March in Wisconsin was created so people who don't drink will know what it's like to have a hangover. Because I know everyone is intensely interested, here is my list of favorite seasons: Fall...Winter...Summer and then Spring. I don't know what it means about my psyche, that I prefer the decomposition of Fall over the new birth of Springtime, but I'm sure my family would have some fascinating theories. As much as I like the time of year we are in right now, it does bring with it some problems...mostly financial.

Starting in August, we have birthdays just about every month. My oldest son turned 17 last month. The next turned 16 yesterday. In about a month, our youngest hits 11 and then, in December the solitary girl is 14. (No birthdays in November so my checking account gives thanks.) It has become a tradition of sorts to call the time between each birthday the "season of insert-name-here" for whoever's big day is next. So, most of Summer is the season of Alex. We just concluded the season of Taylor and started the season of Harrison. Then, the season of Samantha runs almost two months. Sometimes this idea is unwelcome. "It's the season of Taylor so why do I have to take the cereal box and garden shovel into the backyard and pick up the dog's 'souvenirs?" asks Taylor. "You can't really be angry with me about my bedroom...after all it's my season," states Samantha, sweetly. Alex: "I really think I should be able to stay up until 3:00 a.m. since it's the season of me." For Harrison, who leads a charmed life anyway, the season of himself is just confirmation that he is in charge and all's well.

This is one of those things that began on its own and continues with no effort. That is really the sign of a true tradition...it just happens. I've tried to force some traditions. I found a Christmas lullaby a long time ago and decided I would sing it to my children as they fell asleep on Christmas Eve. My oldest boys allowed this to happen until they were about one and two, when, like Simon on American Idol, they made it clear that my vocal renderings (a very apt description, by the way) did not meet with their approval: "Daddy. Stop." Nothing if not concise. So, my Hallmark Card image of a loving father crooning his kids to sleep on a snowy, starlit night was replaced with the distant sounds of a dad, discovering new combinations of words, trying to make the wrong-sized bolt fit into the right-sized hole on somebody's new bike. Now, that's a tradition! My wife tried to introduce the old, I think, German tradition of St. Nicholas day...putting your shoes outside your door and waking to find them filled with candy and fruit. Unfortunately, the dogs always celebrated early. Frankly, that tradition would have had a rather short run even without canine interference because, once the boys hit their teen years, you needed a full-body radiation suit and tongs just to approach their tennies. However, they would be easy to find since the over-powering odor (even our current dog will not pick them up...and this is a creature that will roll around in a dead fish, given the opportunity) is accompanied by a strange, greenish glow.

So, anyway, what all those birthdays mean, plus Christmas, plus a wedding anniversary thrown in for good measure, is that Fall is also open season on greenbacks. I write so many checks this time of the year that I end up with carpal. I can't quite afford the tunnel. As the leaves fall, so does the balance in my checking account. This is when I sort of hope someone will steal my credit cards, as I am sure he or she would be spending less than we are. Still, even with all of that expense, I still love Autumn and, I've made a discovery: the sweet smell of the season is not just trees, plants, grass, bushes and flowers saying good-bye for another year. It is also the lingering scent of my credit report quickly decaying.

*Just a quick thank you to the great students, faculty and parents of Olathe East for being so much fun last Friday! Yes, I wore a poodle skirt because it's hard to say no to a woman dressed like a giant chicken. And, thank you to all the wonderful runners and walkers and volunteers at the Heartland Run yesterday morning. The foster children of Clay and Platte Counties will have brighter days thanks to your early morning efforts. By the way, my daughter won her age group. She can move really fast until you put her behind an upright vacuum or hand her a dust cloth. Congratulations to all!