Happy Halloween! We’re not dressing up this year, unless you count the fact that Happy Fun Baby is wearing pumpkin-colored sweatpants. Oh, and I’m going as a frumpy housewife. It’s a costume. No really.
The blogosphere is, as expected, abuzz with seasonal goodness. In addition to seriously cute pictures of wee children in costume, I am currently entertained by The Zero Boss, who is featuring a post from Girl’s Gone Child with an updated, politically-correct version of the trick-or-treat rhyme we all knew and loved as kids. (Man, we were smart-asses as children! You’d think we’d have grown out of it by now, wouldn’t you? At least I don’t threaten to de-pant random passers-by. Usually.) As someone who owns Politically Correct Bedtime Stories (and, er, its sequel), I can appreciate such things. Political correctness is totally a punchline. Didn’t you know?
I almost wish we’d decided to dress up the short person, but at almost 11 months old he’s a bit too young to appreciate the finer points of Halloween: namely, candy. I appreciate candy. I appreciate small, individually-wrapped confections of delicious, chocolate-covered…wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Trick-or-treating, and why it’s sort of silly to bring the little one out into the cold and dark to knock on strangers’ doors and beg for treats he can’t have. Which…seems pretty self-explanatory, now that I think about it. Still, he makes a damn cute pirate, even if we haven’t taught him how to say “Arr.”
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