Monday, December 12, 2011


I love the ages of 6 and 9

all of the weirdness that is my progeny has begun to fully

manifest itself in beautifully bizarre ways.

This year it was the way of the zombie.

I am not sure exactly how they heard about zombies, but 
one day I came home and gave them their Halloween cards
that had arrived from Uncle Michael (who rocked the cards).  

Apparently kids think it doesn't get much better than 
cards that double as franken eyebrows and a kitty cat mask.

They put on their cards and then began shuffle walking around the house
 eating each others extremities and moaning plaintively bbrrraaaaaiiiiinnnnnnsssss.

I tried explaining to them that while I may watch (and enjoy) The Walking Dead
Amanda Feral is snarky and much more my style of zombie,

then they started gnawing on my leg.

At some point Daddy got involved and the situation
dissolved into less gnawing and more giggles.

And then we got dressed for trick-or-treating.

Read this first if you like a little foreshadowing.
Well maybe less foreshadowing and more blind
Halloween hope, but whatever, the point is

I got my family to dress up as a family 
with out beating, threatening or begging.

Hero Husband does these things because he loves me.


Miss Thing didn't hate the idea of Glenda, but was sold on the ruby
slippers and the blue dress with a petticoat.


Super Son was the only hold out.
The tin man, the wizard, scarecrow, cowardly lion
or even Uncle Henry had absolutely no appeal to him.

Then I found the magic words.

Flying Monkey.

Trick - or - treating with our old friends in our old hood
(with its reasonable size and active kid population) were perfect.

Our old house was in the process of being cleaned after a tenant move out.

I might have snuck inside and walked around to reminisce.

Eventually the fun must come to an end
and thankfully it was just me that the house fell on top of.

Hope your Halloween was as wonderful as mine.

Belatedly of course. 

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