Let there be candy. Lots of candy.

What am I doing right now?  Or wrong now?  I’m eating my weight in last night’s Halloween loot.

Gav (who might soon need an eating intervention as he could have passed as a skeleton last night if he’d decided on streaking through the streets) offered up his entire bag of candy, “Here, Mom. Have as much as you like.”  The boy knows as much as I like is ALL OF IT.  I need a snack-sized candy bar intervention stat.  (oh, Butterfinger®, you are indeed “crispety, crunchety, peanut-buttery!”  and you satisfy linger all day in my molars.)

Have candy in sleeve of wizard?

Gav busted out the Borat gear once again.  He’s a creature of habit. Find something that works and stick with it.  I can’t tell you how many times I was a witch over my treat-or-treating career. Long dark hair…long dark hair. Yeh, I guess long dark hair was my only necessary qualifier.  But, by year 4 of Witch Way Is Halloween, my mom and I had that outfit down to a science with life-like warts each complete with the added black hair (plucked from the pissed off donor, our black cat, Nikki).  

Whereas I had the long dark hair, Gav’s got the eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth…oh, okay, his biological father is Sacha Baron Cohen.  Black cat’s out of the bag.

We trick-or-treated in our old stomping grounds, a swanky neighborhood where the streets smell of cinnamon and cedar.  (i’m serious…i don’t know if they hire a truck to drive through and fumigate the place regularly or that’s how rich smells)  (oh, and i never owned a house there…rented a teensy condo that smelled of stinky shoes and little boy urine)  Trick-or-treating!  Yes.

Gav/Borat spent the night High-Five!ing and Very Nice!ing his way from house to house.

Gab.  Oh, Gab, when will you agree to wear a costume?  Never, you say?  That’s what I thought.  

Remember the Nemo debacle from last year.  Yeh, I thought she’d be adorable screaming bloody murder in a giraffe costume this year.  She LOVES giraffes and has a slew of them that she carries with her everywhere she goes.  I thought upon eyeing a chubby-bellied giraffe costume at C0stc0, “Hella yeh!  She’ll never want to take this puppy giraffe off!  Score one for me!”  

So wrong was I.

Sorry to break it to you as I know how fond you are of viewing photos of ’screaming, crying their eyes out, kickin’ up a fuss’ children, but I never managed to photograph Big Foot Gab in giraffe get-up.  Ya know why?  Because she never even put a dang foot in the dang thing.  If I merely approached her with the furry giraffe costume in tow, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”  

These boots weren't made for walking (never mind they're sneakers).

So, Gab went as Gab wearing the same Halloween gear as last year (damn, has she not grown an inch or ounce in a year?)…black pants, orange shirt, and a new brown sweater.  Super f*ckin’ Halloween festive, eh?

And, she wanted absof*ckinglutely nothing to do with treat-or-treating the first hour or so on the streets.  She kicked, screamed, and cried, insisting E or I carry her while we pushed the spineless giraffe around in the stroller.  (i am so sorry i didn’t get a decent photo of the giraffe being strolled around…passersby kept stopping to bend down and say Hello! to the Adorable, Cute, Ohmygod, there’s no child in there!!! giraffe costume)

Eventually, though, she got the hang of the game and realized, “OhmysweetcandyJesus, these people are giving me CANDY!”  Then, there was no stopping her as she pranced up to each house, thrusting out her Elmo basket and continuing on to the next gracious giver of the sweet stuff.

And, she continues on trick-or-treating tonight, proudly showing off her hard-earned goods to the twins and thrusting the Elmo basket at me in hopes I’ll give up a few of my snack-sized candy bars.  ::selfishly hovering over my candy:: 

What’s for dinner, you ask?  Candy-bar casserole is sounding mighty darn tasty.

All the cool kids hang out On The Curb!