Boo

We survived another Halloween. I'll admit upfront that Halloween is one of my favorite yet most dreaded holidays. Favorite since it's a relatively low maintenance, high impact event. For the cost of puzzling out and sometimes assembling a costume, you have free entertainment for your kids plus a bucket of candy to boot. It's one of my most dreaded because we still are unable to accurately predict which Isabel will make an appearance on Halloween night. More often than not (at least recently), it is fear plagued Izzy, who despite the "tough talk" in the run up to trick-or-treating shows up and ends up in a puddle on the floor begging to go home immediately. Last year she got so worked up after seeing one homeowner dressed up like a ghoul, she bit Ryan on the neck. Needless to say, our Halloween ended promptly thereafter. This year we tried what we hoped would be a foolproof solution. We decided to forgo joining our friends in Old Towne and kept close to home. My sister and her sons as well as some local friends would join us for a spin through the neighborhood.

All was going well until Izzy decided to actually grace us with a nap before trick-or-treating. (A rare event these days.) I probably could have predicted that this would be a mistake since Iz doesn't wake up easily from naps. She's alot like Ryan in that way. The thought of hyper active, under-napped 4 yrs old was equally daunting, however. Sure as the sun shines, she woke up a terror. She didn't want to put on her costume, didn't want to trick-or-treat until we had dinner (!), wasn't going to go but decided at the last minute that she would, wanted to be carried, and then conveyed from house to house in a wagon that was meant to house her younger sister and cousin. All the while, I, ever graceful, tried to play this down, taking turns yelling and having a sickly sweet smile on my face for the benefit of the other parents and children. "Isn't this fun?" "ISABEL- get over here now!" "Don't you look cute?" "ISABEL- if you don't stop whining, you're staying home and getting NO candy." "Can Auntie Jozie take your picture?" "Don't sass me young lady. I am your mom and I CAN tell you what to do."

Eventually, everyone calmed down and we just had to listen to the incessant whine of "I want to go home now." Funny how when faced with the prospect of candy, the whining would cease momentarily until she resumed her position in her wagon/chariot. The other kids gamely ignored "Fancy Nancy." Our two years old companion soldiered on insisting that Owie can walk just fine and yes Owie would like more candy. Lottie, bedecked as Angelina Ballerina, had wrapped herself around my neck early on and would not countenance stopping or being put in the wagon. My nephew, Baz, was so taken back that he was being offered free CANDY that he walked around in a bit of a daze and kept forgetting to hold out his pumpkin bucket.

Perhaps the highlight/low point of the very short evening was passing by a house occupied by teenage girls and presumably their parents although the parents were not apparent that night. These girls clearly were into the grizzly side of the holiday and set up shop in their backyard in order to issue blood curdling screams randomly. This unnerved our small troop. I gamely tried to explain to the screaming girls that pint size people were going past. (They ignored this outright.) Our friend tried to explain to her son Owie that they were in fact laughing and proceeded to laugh somewhat maniacally herself to demonstrate this. Neither Owie nor any of us bought that. My sister then tried to overcome the screams by singing "happy songs" loudly. Again, to limited effect. Fortunately, Fancy Nancy was too busy pouting to be totally put off and if the smaller kids wet themselves, they could always argue that it was just the normal call of nature and for godness sake they were wearing diapers.

Next year, I think I'll lobby to man the door. It's less scary that way.