Happy Halloween!

This was the first year that The Boy went trick-or-treating. Last year it was hard enough to get him to get his costume on. This year we thought we were in for more of the same, and were thinking that we weren't going to push it, but he WAS excited about putting out the jack-o-lantern that he and his dad had carved earlier in the day, and once I announced around 6 that it was time to put that out, he decided it was time to go trick or treating as well. Thank heavens he had an easy costume to put on.

(He went as Venom, which I'm not sure I mentioned here before. Yeah, I know -- a supervillain. I'm not entirely sure it was a good choice, since I'm supposed to be the guider of morals and all, but he did LOVE it and ... well, the costume was on sale at the local consignment store, $12!)

So off we went -- first to the neighbours, where he got his first treat, much to his surprise. I don't think he really believed us that people would just give him candy. And then we went to a small townhouse complex down the block -- I think we hit probably only 15 places in total -- and he was pumped.

"I LOVE this trick or treating!" he kept saying. "I LOVE all these treats! Let's try THAT house! They have pumpkins!" And on it went. The pitch and volume of his voice got louder and louder and more excited, and he was practically sparkling by the end of it all. He had to be reminded to say trick or treat, and reminded to say thank you, and a few times we had to help him remember to leave, because at a few places if he just stood there they would give him MORE CANDY, so each time he would lean further and further in the door, perhaps in the hopes that just round the corner there was some big vat into which he could simply dive. And he never managed to be able to tell people who he was dressed as, instead he would point at the spider on his chest and say "duh duh DUH" in that classic comic sign of evil arriving and bad things happening that we've taught him, which did at least give him a few laughs. (He had his own entrance music!)

By the end of it all he decided his bag was much too heavy for him to carry, so he would hand it to us as he turned around, his faithful baggage handlers, before racing off to the next stoop.

He was (surprisingly) pleased to go home, but I think that perhaps it was just because then he could look at all his loot and -- gasp! -- eat some.

And now it's 8:45, and despite the fact that we let him eat only three items from the loot bag, he is wired as sh*t and won't sleep. So I guess all in all we could call it a rousing success.