Candy?
Check.
(Second batch. Matthew bought the first bags a FULL MONTH early. (What was he thinking?). He bought the second batch two weeks early -- again with the WWHT -- but I tossed them into not one, but TWO grocery bags, each seriously knotted, and bunged them into the back porch. Out of sight, out of mind holds firmly true with a memory as porous as mine...)
Jack o'lantern decoration on the front door?
Check.
Two pumpkins, one on either side of the porch steps?
Check.
One of which is carved into v. traditional jack o'lantern.
Check.
(Cheery little bugger, isn't he?)
Candle for inside jack?
Not yet.
Check!
Hand-made ghost decorations made?
Check.
Hand-made ghost decorations hung across porch?
Not yet.
Check!
I think we're just about ready!
Isn't it exciting? Small children across the city are already abuzz with excitement. They'll have a hard time eating dinner, poor mites, so eager will they be to don those costumes and glean all the candy theirgreedy innocent little hands can scoop.
Hallowe'en is most fun when your children are little. The tiny ones, the four-and-unders, still amazed and awed that people keep putting candy in their bags! They tend to forget to say "thank you", but their expression of astonished delight says it all. By the time they're eight and nine, and the best you get is a muttered "thanks" as they dash off to the next sucker, it begins to pall a bit. Particularly when the mutterers include your own beloved offspring.
My children have all outgrown trick-or-treating and will spend the evening at one party or another. And I will woman the front door, opening to each shouted "trick or treat", dropping FUNSIZE chocolate bars into bags, plastic pumpkins, and, for the truly dedicated, pillow cases. I will get up and down 50 times in two hours. I will feel the chill drafts of late October dampness swirl around my ankles and into my living room. I will coo at the preschool sweethearts and silently sneer at the mutterers. Mutter for mutter.
"Thnx"
"Greedyungratefulbrat. You're welcome!"
I will keep this annual event up until my children have all left home, till all pretence of caring can be dropped. Then I shall join the ranks of the few cheerfully unfettered curmudgeons on the street, and stay cosy behind firmly closed doors on the last day of October.
Bah, humbug.
Updated: But that little ladybug, with the hearts on her wings instead of spots, who could only lisp out a shy, "Merci"? Oh, lordy, she was cute...
Check.
(Second batch. Matthew bought the first bags a FULL MONTH early. (What was he thinking?). He bought the second batch two weeks early -- again with the WWHT -- but I tossed them into not one, but TWO grocery bags, each seriously knotted, and bunged them into the back porch. Out of sight, out of mind holds firmly true with a memory as porous as mine...)
Jack o'lantern decoration on the front door?
Check.
Two pumpkins, one on either side of the porch steps?
Check.
One of which is carved into v. traditional jack o'lantern.
Check.
(Cheery little bugger, isn't he?)Candle for inside jack?
Check!
Hand-made ghost decorations made?
Check.
Hand-made ghost decorations hung across porch?
Check!
I think we're just about ready!
Isn't it exciting? Small children across the city are already abuzz with excitement. They'll have a hard time eating dinner, poor mites, so eager will they be to don those costumes and glean all the candy their
Hallowe'en is most fun when your children are little. The tiny ones, the four-and-unders, still amazed and awed that people keep putting candy in their bags! They tend to forget to say "thank you", but their expression of astonished delight says it all. By the time they're eight and nine, and the best you get is a muttered "thanks" as they dash off to the next sucker, it begins to pall a bit. Particularly when the mutterers include your own beloved offspring.
My children have all outgrown trick-or-treating and will spend the evening at one party or another. And I will woman the front door, opening to each shouted "trick or treat", dropping FUNSIZE chocolate bars into bags, plastic pumpkins, and, for the truly dedicated, pillow cases. I will get up and down 50 times in two hours. I will feel the chill drafts of late October dampness swirl around my ankles and into my living room. I will coo at the preschool sweethearts and silently sneer at the mutterers. Mutter for mutter.
"Thnx"
"Greedyungratefulbrat. You're welcome!"
I will keep this annual event up until my children have all left home, till all pretence of caring can be dropped. Then I shall join the ranks of the few cheerfully unfettered curmudgeons on the street, and stay cosy behind firmly closed doors on the last day of October.
Bah, humbug.
Updated: But that little ladybug, with the hearts on her wings instead of spots, who could only lisp out a shy, "Merci"? Oh, lordy, she was cute...
Labels: Canada, reality bites
posted by irreverentmama at
2:14 p.m.
1 Comments:
I remember making those ghosties when I was little. Funny enough, here in Japan children (and some adults) make the exact same thing, but they call the creature "Sunshine Boy". They make one and hang him in a window the day before an outdoor event, in the hopes that he will whisper to the sky and bring a sunny day, driving away the rain.
Now, of course, when I see Sunshine Boy here, I giggle silently and think of Halloween...and when I see Halloween tissue paper ghosts, I giggle silently and think "why ask for sunshine for a holiday celebrated in the dark?"
By
Carolie, at 4:07 a.m.
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