Trick or Treat (Smell My Feet!)

Like most Moms with a blog, today mine will be plastered with pictures of my kids.  In cheap, synthetic fabrics and strangely fitting clothes.  Walking around from house to house, begging.

This dinosaur costume was a gift when Lucas was a baby.  Lucas wore it, then Max, now Harry.

Arrr...  Scored this pirate costume at a friend's garage sale.

And...  Dragon.  Killer sale at Gymboree.

There you have it.  It felt a little bit like Halloween cheating, not putting any work into their costumes...  but then I got over it.  Happy Halloween.

Harry didn't stay with us for long...  that was one crazy dinosaur.  Running, running, running...  All three boys played true to form...  Lucas asked everyone for Whoppers.   Max was darling and charming to everyone and trilled, "Happy Haddoween!  Hab a good night!" at every house.  And Harrison just ran until he fell down.  Over, and over again.  At least they didn't try and go into our neighbor's houses like they did last year...  That was awkward.  However, I did have to keep reminding them that the proper thing to say was, Trick or Treat and not, I want some candy!  I wish I was kidding.  But I'm not.

Oh...  Halloween Cat.  Lucas and Max have a love hate relationship with Halloween Cat.  Well, Max does.  Lucas has a love love relationship, Max has a love hate relationship.  He's very complex for a three year old.  They are obsessed with Halloween Cat.  We have to drive by and see it every time we leave the house.  The boys call, "Hi, Halloween Cat!!" then Max reassures us all, "He is not scary.  He's just a balloon."  Then I ask him if Halloween Cat ever comes in his room at night...  Then he pees.

Last year, we had a hard time even getting Max to go trick or treating...  he wouldn't leave our neighbor's yard.  he wanted to stay with Halloween Cat.  I can't blame him, Halloween Cat does have that certain something...

As soon as we got home, Lucas immediately had to slip into something a little more comfortable...  Not pajamas, surprisingly.  But rather a rhinocerous muscle tee.  But of course.  Eating candy by the fistful always calls for a muscle tee.

Chris and I checked their candy for razor blades, because we're good parents and that's what good parents do.  Tell them that a giant, blow up cat sneaks into their room at night while they're sleeping, and checks their Halloween candy for razor blades.

No razor blades, yo.  Eat up.