Wockas and squishing.
I know that there a million bazillion fafafillion posts and Facebook update statuses out there about Halloween. Well, meet fafafillion and one, sent out to the wide world web in hope that by waiting an extra week to post this, it will be fresh and welcome. And why, might I ask, do we not say “stati” instead of “statuses”? Statuses just sounds so awkward. Statuses.
Statuses.
Stati.
Yep, like stati better.
So anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. Number fafafillion and one post about Halloween.
First, there was Trunk or Treat. Holden saw friends from school peppered throughout the crowd,
and shocker of shocks, he begged to go through the haunted house.
Throughout the winding darkness and fog, he kept yelling back at whatever yelled at him first and followed it with a quick, “That’s not scary!” I was so proud.
However.
The next two nights we heard a lot of, “I don’t ever want to go to a haunted house again,” and, “That haunted house kind of freaked me out.”
We helped with the Conviction CrossFit trunk. Holden and Aurora handed out sticky hands like pros. (Aurora, by the way, immediately earned her friendship with Holden several weeks ago since she can “push [him] down because she’s stronger than anybody.” We think she’s just the cherry on the cake.)
Second on the agenda, I love Halloween.
LOVE it. We threw a big party at which the number of kids was greater than the number of adults and everyone lived to tell the tale. Highlights include:
My oh-so-handsome husband, and a crazy cat lady.
A wide-eyed sprite.
Our baby dressed up as whatever Daddy was dressed up as.
Wockas, as Ewan calls them. Not sure how “spider” sounds like “wocka”, but it is not for me to judge. And of course, graveyard treats.
Zombies.
Friends. Princesses. Sisters. And…witches, witches everywhere.
My very petite, very funny, little tiny friend, Lee. And since I was dressed up to the nines as a Stepford Wife, I was at least six inches taller than normal when you include the heels and my hair.
Yes, that’s right. Lee comes up to my belt. My BELT. Gracious Lordy. Amazon, anyone?
As my friend and neighbor, Zombie Betty Draper, and I,
sat about chatting and nibbling on treats and sipping on yummy beverages, the rest of the lot spilled out into the neighborhood to gather what goodies they could find. Oh boy did my heart beat faster and a smile spread out on my face each time I heard princess shoes clackity-clack up our front walk to beg for candy. They came in droves and waves, sometimes sneaking up softly like ninjas but mostly squealing like little kids getting away with naughty, naughty things like sticking their hands in a cauldron full of sweets and grabbing what they could before you made it to the door.
I love this life. With every ring of that doorbell and every shout of “Trick or Treat!”, I fell even harder. Knowing that my boys were out there running from house to house together with Daddy keeping a watchful eye, the big one reaching under the little one’s armpits to drag him up on porches, only to forget him up there in his excitement of new stuff in the goodie bag as he leaped down to compare with his friends.
It’s a high unlike any candy high I’ve ever had. High on life, baby. While Holden enjoys every moment of life, Ewan squeezes the bejesus out of it. We call it, “squishing”.
So here’s to life, and here’s to squishing. And here’s to lawns littered with cups and candy wrappers and footballs and lacrosse sticks and pieces of corn stalks. To refrigerators too full of guacamole and baked beans. To wood floors that collect popcorn and confetti just as easily as the occasional dust bunny.
And here’s to our friends who have staked their claim in our hearts. Oh, we are full.
