I love Halloween, but in the same way that I love tequila—a little bit goes a long way, and too much is, ah, regrettable. The dressing up? That’s awesome. Having candy? Yes, please. (Especially from the point of view of this whole parenting gig, because they go begging FOR ME and then share because they love me. Or because they leave their buckets on the counter and go to bed earlier than I do. Details.) But when Halloween falls on a weeknight and the kids keep wanting to do “just one more house,” at the end of the night while I’m trying to get cranky children into bed, I’m thanking the lord that Halloween comes but once a year.
We went trick-or-treating with some friends, and the friends had other friends come as well… friends-of-friends, I guess they were, and so there was a veritable SWARM of children in our group, which was made up almost entirely of boys. Chickadee walked along with me, most of the time, and my friend’s 2-year-old daughter rode in a stroller, and then ALL THOSE BOYS ran and galloped and frolicked and did things like respond to “THERE’S A CAR COMING!” by RUNNING OUT INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. Because that’s what boys do.
I’m pleased to report that we didn’t lose a single child. Not one of them was run over! That’s the Halloween miracle, right there.
Also, only one house gave the kids weird unwrapped candy. It appeared to be a painstakingly assembled container of Red Vines, black licorice, AND Twizzlers (just in case you have a preference when it comes to your red gummy whips, I suppose) which had all been ripped into 1-inch-long pieces. I didn’t know that anyone DID that, anymore, but the children (who have been schooled in proper Halloween candy safety since birth) thanked the giver and then—upon peeking into the container—volunteered “I’ve got something to throw away!” Heh.
Monkey and one of the friend-of-friends hit it off famously, so much so that I was constantly dropping to the back of the swarm to hurry them along, so engrossed were they in their various discussions of Great Importance.
Conversation ranged from what the grim reaper actually DOES to how many different ways there are to make a parallelogram to who’s seen the most episodes of Ben 10. This other kid’s father was so impressed by their never-ending and serious geekery that he asked them “What’s the longest word in the dictionary?”
“Onomatopoeia?” guessed the new friend.
“Antidisestablishmentarianism!” crowed Monkey.
(I tried not to look too smug. Onomatopoeia was a really good guess.) (Hey, at least I didn’t point out that actually, floccinaucinihilipilification is longer by one letter.) (I am simultaneously pleased and disgusted with myself for knowing that.)
Anyway, I am now hoping that the boys grow up and have babies together. Babies who are nerdiness squared, as well as being the first children conceived of two sperm rather than an egg and a sperm, which doubtless those two will be able to figure out, given enough time and a few more episodes of Ben 10.
I just reread this last bit and realized that I should probably apologize to my children RIGHT NOW for all of the times they’re going to get beat up in high school.
Hey, let’s divert our attention from my family’s utter geekitude with some pictures, shall we?
Chickadee elected to go out this year as an irresponsible babysitter. She wore bright blue eyeshadow and some lipstick, headphones around her neck and an old cell phone of Otto’s which we finally got her to keep clipped to her belt (early in the evening she kept pulling it out and pretending to talk: “Well hello, BOYFRIEND, I am TOTALLY watching TV and eating snacks while SITTING ON THIS BABY!”), and—oh yeah—a baby pinned to her butt. So that she could sit on it.
She looked like a miniature teenager and I saw my future. It was very scary.
Monkey got the most laughs of the evening in his getup as a chick magnet. In all of his running around he would occasionally dislodge a chick, and we parents kept adding appropriate narration whenever this happened and we had to retrieve a chick from the ground—“Thanks for the laughs, baby. Call ya never!” and “Sorry, babe, I’m in demand over here and you’re crimping my style!”
I must say that I found this role particularly endearing while he’s missing his two front teeth, for some reason. And also because Monkey really sort of IS a chick magnet in the most oblivious possible way. He’s a very PRETTY boy and the ladies love him and he doesn’t even notice. Heh.
As for me, well, I was my usual beautiful self. I’m sort of amazed that my children aren’t yet embarrassed to be seen with me.
Otto stayed home and gave out candy here, after snapping a million pictures before we headed out. Maybe HE was embarrassed to be seen with me….
This morning was rough; everyone is tired and it’s back to the daily grind. But I guess it was worth it. And also that I deserve a mini Butterfinger or three for a snack.