A few howling moons ago, my child had her first trick-or-treating experience. It was quite an experience for her mother as well. Luckily I documented said event and have pasted it below for this post. (Okay, maybe a bit like cheating or regifting....but why not pull from the archives if possible? So what if it wasn't called blogging then, the intent was the same...minus the World Wide Audience)
I could see that magical day in my mind. I bought fabric. I sewed, broke a few needles, conned the sitter into threading the bobbin (I really had no idea what I was doing). Then I hand-sewed silk flowers to the skirt and tracked glitter all over the house. I made a wand...and a crown. I practically lived the few days before Halloween as a deranged would-be stage mother, playing down the fact that I made the costume....Oh, I just threw it together! (at midnight).
Halloween arrived cold and rainy. My child lasted about five seconds in the costume before announcing with conviction "I don't like my fairy princess costume." She then insisted I take it off (which of course I had to do because she pooped in it). She soon discovered the candy bowl and helped herself to her first tootsie pop, getting red, sticky candy juice all over her face (and eventually in my hair when she jammed said lollypop into my ear). Then she got a stomach ache. But I was still somewhat determined, and even though she was sans costume, I took her outside, hoping the trick-or-treating event might actually happen. And during the screaming fit of her telling me that she wants “to go to trick or treat", it dawned on me that she thinks it's a party. With swings. And why isn't she there? An hour and a half later, after constant screaming and her head making a 360 degree revolution, I threw her into the van hoping for some peace and quiet (no such luck) -- while listening to her Baby Songs tape for the 9 millionth time.
Once home, I popped some migraine medication, thought about breaking open a bottle of Scotch from the bar, and counted the minutes until her 7:30 bedtime when the (expletive) holiday was over. On the flip side, I got to eat all her candy.