I rushed home from Kenya to make it in time for Halloween. #priorities
I don’t love the Halloween holiday (candy + celebration of scary stuff = not my thing), but I love love love the costumes. Also, I love that it’s the only socially acceptable time to knock on neighbors’ doors. Since we started doing it in our neighborhood two years ago, we’ve developed brand new relationships with two neighbors and strengthened several others. America is a weird place, y’all.
But I mentioned my Halloween love to my sister, and she said she felt the same way. I think it’s because we didn’t really celebrate it growing up. I remember one childhood party growing up (hosted by the always-up-for-a-party Kerrigan family and featuring peeled grapes as eye balls. I thought it. was. awesome.) and we went trick-or-treating once with my grandma in Florida. I dressed as a Native American #politicallyincorrect. Apparently these memories sunk deep, because we sisters now live for Halloween.
I got my little cherubs to do a dry run with their costumes before I left, to make sure everything fit.
But as these things go, the fun only lasted so long.
There was a swing, and a miss, which disintegrated into wrestling. And maybe some pinching.
The kids basically spent the two weeks before Halloween in costume, as we dragged them to the Kiddie Park event and then to all the Trunk or Treats all over town (while I was gone).
But by the time I swooped in from Kenya to take them trick or treating, the little one was done with her costume. It was itchy. Only I didn’t find this out until it was time to get dressed. But thanks to her big brother’s leftovers, we took two super heroes to knock on the neighbors’ doors, and all was right in the world.
Superman saved the day again!