I reserved the right to make a last minute decision about trick-or-treating on the actual day this year. We’ve already hit two other fall-ish related candy parties during the past few weeks and I’d be okay not seeing another tootsie roll. ever. Not that I don’t love traveling downtown, scouring the streets for a parking spot, and keeping track of two excited kids in a sea of darth vaders and princess peaches up way past their bedtime. I actually manage to really enjoy Sugar Rush Day every year. But this week we’ve been through a value pack of kleenex boxes, a bottle or two of Nyquil and a moment of insanity on Monday when I abandoned my vegetarian ways and ordered a piece of fried fish (so you know I’m really not myself). Also, Caleb is in the field, in the rain, in a tent, with a bunch of Army dudes. And last time I went trick-or-treating without him my car was towed. So there’s that.
As the sun crept toward the crease between our half bare trees last night I took a deep breath and decided to be okay with staying home. So while everyone else in the neighborhood was zipping up costumes and searching for lost treat bags we were all cereal and mini-marshmallows in our pajamas, a book about a magical staircase, heads or tails to pick the pandora station and a surprisingly accurate lip-synced rendition of Little Mermaid.
Onward to Thanksgiving.
Last week’s fall festival: