I have never been a big fan of Halloween (e.g. I hide when the doorbell rings).
Darling Husband thinks it should be a monthly event.
When I told him I was preggo, I could see the glimmering orange hope that Halloween would be reclaimed for his household.
Baby Boy, however, inherited my anti-Oct 31 gene.
He likes the IDEA of it, case in point the three fancy costumes he promised he would wear and are still on the hangers. (He hoards costumes like I do shoes. The problem with commercial costumes is that they disintegrate on Nov 1.)
This morning he told me he wanted to be a ghost. At Target, the closest they had was a Mummy. (I cut 800-thread count sheets for no one!) He told the cashier he was going to be a "Mommy."
He helped pick out Peanut Butter cups--the full-size ones. (I ate most of them yesterday and he hid the rest once I told him we had to share with the neighbors.)
It is 7:42. DH and BB are asleep. I threw a bowl of raisins and black toothbrushes (BB did a spectacular job hiding the Reece's) on the porch for latecomers and I am now sitting in the dark fully aware that the dog has discovered this surprise bowl of Treats.
I have only myself to blame when we get egged.