Okay, so I readily admit that Halloween is over. Completely over. In fact, Halloween is so over that we are now fully able to obsess over a new holiday. Thanksgiving. Ahem. Yeah, right. We all know that according to retail standards “Turkey Day” is practically non-existent, and Christmas, if you’ve visited any Target or Walmart stores or caught a glimpse of any home shopping networks lately, is where it’s at. But I digress (and will undoubtedly blog about more later because it makes me angry).
In my excitement of tearing down giant spiders from my drapery rod, skull and crossbones gel clings from my windows and collecting various skeleton parts from my house plants I completely forgot to post Halloween night pictures, therefore not finishing the series I unwittingly began. SinceI have blogged about our trip to the pumpkin patch and then the requisite carving of the pumpkins, to not end the Halloween blogfest with trick-or-treating pictures would be like not watching the third Star Wars movie. And I certainly wouldn’t want to do that. (Full disclosure: Okay, I haven’t actually watched all the Star Wars movies. But I hear they are good and to not finish the trilogy is a travesty of epic proportions.)
Halloween in our neighborhood has been what some might consider “mayhem” in past years. At times, we’ve counted up to almost 600 trick-or-treaters darkening our doorstep, forcing us to dig into our “good candy” stash when the Dots and Smartees are all taken. To take the kids out is like navigating through a war zone and I usually prefer hanging back at home sipping on cider and eating barbecue wienies.
However, this year I decided to embrace the holiday and endure the chaos of soliciting for candy. And I’m glad I did. If I hadn’t been present I would never have known my son has a particular distaste for waiting in line and using sidewalks and has a special affinity for the “I’ll pull down my underwear” line from the classic “Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet” anthem.
I also wouldn’t have experienced the endearing high-fives my children shared after each candy score and Avery’s protective older-sister instincts at each street crossing. A tug at any mother’s heart string, for sure.
All in all, it was yet another successful holiday and my kid’s are already looking forward to next year. Apparently, Avery’s pretty sure she will be needing red lipstick and Jack will be requiring some sort of power tool. That gives me approximately 345 days to feed them subliminal images of innocent little farm animals and noble superheroes.