So yesterday was Halloween, or if you are so inclined, “Hallowe’en,” and so we dutifully tarted the Collective Spawn up in costumes and allowed them to beg the neighbors for candy. The costumes are what makes this different from an average evening.
The two older spawn decided they wanted to be rockstars, so we procured or scrounged up rockstar accoutrement such as spangly fingerless gloves, dollar-store hair extensions, inexpensive red lipstick, and eyeshadow in parrot-plumage colors. Glittery pink-handled dollar-store microphones and peace-sign bling finished off the look.
I think the oldest was most excited about the makeup. Eyeliner pencil, the eyeshadow, a touch of mascara, blush, and the red lipstick and suddenly my 8-year-old looked like a teenager. I told her so and she got all excited.
If I wasn’t so lazy I’d get the better pictures off the camera but it’s been a long day. Then you will see them all, and in focus too.
So we live in Suburgatory and for the most part it’s not a bad neighborhood, aside from the people in the rental house kittycorner to our backyard who decided it was a good idea to do a variety of interesting activities in the middle of the night recently. It began with them pouring gasoline — I assume it was gasoline as it was being poured from a small red plastic gas can — onto their firepit fire, causing it to blaze up scarily. Then, after lighting up their yard (and everyone else’s) with one of those super-bright hand-held spotlights, they fired up a chainsaw and lopped a decent-sized limb off the entirely unassuming tree in their back yard. After this they attacked the tree with, and I am not kidding, a machete, all the while laughing and talking loudly as though it were not a) midnight and b) a populated area. We called the police twice, first during the chainsawing and then again when they disgorged a fire extinguisher on the firepit, filling the entire neighborhood with dense, smelly smoke. It was therefore deeply satisfying to watch, Gladys-Kravitz-style from behind the patio grape arbor, the ensuing reverse-mayhem as they suddenly rushed into the house, after which one of them meekly returned to the back yard to turn off the light and quietly take a hose to the firepit. There has been nary a peep from them since.
At any rate, it’s otherwise a quiet neighborhood and so it was especially disturbing when a teen a few houses down decided it would be fun to dress in a long black robe and scary skull mask and leap out from behind a box hedge and scare the living crap out of the children as we merrily Trick-or-Treated down the block. Two of the five (we had extras with us) burst into tears. I mean seriously! Jump out of the bushes and scare other teens, but not the elementary crowd! They’ll probably be scarred for life. I’m surprised we didn’t have a bed full of children the next morning.
Okay, I’m not surprised, because I am a cranky old lady and cannot sleep with children in the bed. They wiggle and snore and breathe on you.
They actually did all right, considering. But next year I’m taking a can of Mace with me. SCARE MY CHILDREN WILL YOU PUNK *PSSSHHHHH*