Fridays around here are usually wordless. (On the blog, I mean; at home Fridays are anything but.) In keeping with the spirit of NaBloPoMo, however, I feel it necessary to write at least a little something.
Up until a month ago, The Professor wasn't sure whether he was going trick-or-treating at all. He's 12 and wasn't sure the candy was worth all the "hassle," as he put it. He sat torturing himself at the dining room table (when he should have been doing homework), agonizing over whether or not to participate. I recommended he come up with a simple, inexpensive costume, and decide that day if he wanted to go or not. Given his Pokemon obsession, I thought dressing in the garb of Ash, a Pokemon trainer, was only appropriate. We bought a logo cap off eBay and he grabbed up his stuffed Pikachu he won at King's Island. A costume is born. Ultimately he decided to take part and, in fact, was wildly excited at the thought of all the candy when the day arrived.
|The kick-ass witch's costume|
The Professor was already hanging by the door with his Ash cap and Pikachu and personalized monster bag, cheerfully planning what candy he would eat first. Foghorn was slowly (I mean slowly) getting into her costume. When she finally had it on, after many screams from me, she asked about her shoes. I told her to wear her gym shoes, which are blue and have all sorts of sparklies all over them. She informed me she didn't want to wear those shoes. I nicely, through gritted teeth, told her those were the only shoes she had. She insisted they didn't match the outfit. I insisted they were blue and they matched fine and she couldn't tell me any other pair she wanted to wear instead, so she needed to shut her yap and get the damn shoes on. (I said this in the nicest way possible, I assure you.) She then started to scream bloody murder. That was really thrilling to me, since neighbors were gathered in their driveways to pass out candy and could no doubt hear her tantrum. It's amazing she didn't shatter windows a half mile away.
I was already annoyed with The Vulcan from a non-Halloween disagreement, so I told Foghorn, "Either get your shoes on right now or The Professor and I are leaving. You can come with Daddy when you're ready." She continued to scream, ordering her father out of the room, and I wished him good luck before departing with The Professor. This was not just a way for me to get revenge on my husband, although it didn't hurt. I was also acutely aware that this may be The Professor's last Halloween outing and I was not going to have him miss half because of his sister's antics.
When we arrived at Grandma's I placed a call home and a disgruntled Vulcan informed me that she refused to put on the socks he provided and she was under the dining room table. I told him we were taking The Professor on Grandma's street and I'd check back in before moving on. When I didn't get an answer on my second call, I figured he had extricated her from her hiding spot and must be on the way. Chester sent us ahead and she waited for his car. On the street parallel to Grandma's I heard Chester's big mouth and saw her standing with a disheveled Foghorn and a sour-looking Vulcan. They cut through someone's side yard to catch up and Foghorn went skipping along with The Professor, happy as a lark. Her only concern was she had left her newly-acquired Teletubbies doll with Grandma giving out candy and she was afraid some kid might try to swipe it.
I learned several lessons that night. First, don't spend a lot of money on a costume for a kid as fickle as Foghorn. Second, be prepared for changes to Halloween traditions in 2012. And third, the best way to retaliate against a husband is to leave him with a temperamental child.