Halloween: A cold, ninety minute walk around a suburb teeming with manic parents of chaotic children dressed as every imaginable thing that I never really needed to see, and don’t really appreciate, but have to smile at anyway, or be thought some other type of monster that can’t appreciate the fabricated “cuteness” of the little darlings. Add to that the challenge of keeping my own progeny’s “clothing” on their bodies for the duration of the marathon. The only upside is chocolate. Can I get a BAH-HUMBUG?
But occasionally even I can find something about this trumped-up excuse for a holiday to enjoy. This year it was the creativity of Eight, Twelve, and Thirteen in making their own costumes. I won’t bore anyone with the details, that could not be of any possible interest to anyone but their doting mother. But they made me smile at the inspired attention to detail. And I got one good chuckle this year too.
In order to get more in the mood for Halloween (as if that were possible, we’d been counting the days for over a month) Eight purchased a CD of scary music and sound effects which he generously shared with us in the house and the car. So we were headed over to Aunt T’s neighborhood to trick-or-treat (no opportunity on our rural road). And we had enjoyed Alfred Hitchcock’s theme, some creaky floors and doors, and several ghostly wail selections, when after a pause the sound of a power saw filled the car. After listening attentively for a few seconds Five piped up from the back seat saying, “I call this one ‘Papaw working’.” I had to admit it sounded just like his garage around Pinewood Derby time.
