For Halloween, Steve always carefully crafts a costume over a period of months. This year, he had a porkpie hat, a canvas jacket, Terminator-style sunglasses, a painstakingly curated goatee and mustache, and one pound of blue rock candy. A pitch-perfect (though unbald) Heisenberg. He won $100 in his office contest for best costume, but sadly, his pumpkin-carving-contest entry was disqualified.
Sebastian asked to be “a skeleton,” which confused me, because I almost had to pull him out of the Perot Museum kid’s camp this summer because there was a life-size skeleton model in the classroom wearing a sombrero and poncho, and the grinning visage made Sebastian frantic with its scariness. Maybe he is facing his fears?
Henry was Yoda, because
he is a HUGE Star Wars fan the costume from last year still fit.
I dressed as the World’s Most Extreme Introvert.
On Halloween night, right at the onset of dark, we set a bucket of lollipops on a chair in front of our door and set off in search of more, better-quality candy. I was hoping for TONS of Reese’s products, because Sebastian hates peanuts and I could relieve him of those without resorting to misdirection and trickery.
For the third year in a row, our neighborhood was mostly dark. I find it irritating, to be honest. Be a good neighbor. Put out a bucket of candy and an uncarved pumpkin. I know you’re retired and have embraced utter misanthropy. I sympathize, because I’m 30 years younger and I have, too. But there’s a Walgreen’s down the block with store-brand candy. C’mon. I know you’re home. Your porch light is off but the back of your house is ablaze with the flickering light of CSI: Miami.
Anyway, because 4/5 of the houses were dark, we had to abandon our teachers-and-middle-managers neighborhood and cross the street to the doctors-and-lawyers neighborhood, where the pickings were slightly better. Sebastian (no skull mask; too scary) and Henry (seven-toothed smile) killed with cuteness and spread joy and rainbows all over the place, utterly earning every piece of candy in their buckets (Spider-Man and generic skulls-and-bats).
When we got home, we let Henry have one lollipop which he spat onto the carpet after 30 seconds. Sebastian got to pick out a few fun-sized candies and he left the rest for the Candy Fairy, who used Amazon’s one-day delivery to leave a toy plane in trade.
He thought that was a pretty good deal. I did too, especially since there were not nearly enough peanut butter cups in his haul.