Halloween is always a creativity challenge. Sometimes you start with a great vision, but when you try to execute it, your homemade hooded ghost costume results in your mother asking, “Is he dressed as a nun?” (see Ethan As Ghost, circa 2001) or your Yoda pumpkin requires extensive reconstructive surgery and 31 straight pins to keep its face from collapsing.
I am happy to report that 2010 was a pretty good year for pumpkins and costumes at our house. We made costumes for Abby and Gracie that turned out like what we imagined, and the jack-o-lanterns mostly stayed intact. (Abby’s spider web was the exception – straight pin city).
Mira assisted in the pumpkin gutting this year. One might assume that a toddler would appreciate pulling mushy stuff out of a vegetable, but this is a girl who doesn’t like her hands to be messy. Also, you may recall that she made her particular neatness known to us at a very young age. (She always brings to mind the kid’s song, “There’s a Place For Everything, and Everything In Its Place”). As such, she was uncomfortable with the pumpkin guts out of the pumpkin, and after a while we realized that she was putting all the guts back in the shells.
Randy was all set to hand her the carving tools and let her have a go at a pumpkin, but when I questioned the wisdom of giving a toddler a serrated knife, he admitted that he was motivated by keeping her busy, not by providing artistic freedom. (You don’t really ever imagine having to say to your spouse, “We can’t give a two-year-old knives just to keep her out of our hair…” But there you go).
We carved while she napped.
She was a darling little cow - or “moo,” as she called her costume. (I kept thinking affectionately, “How Now, Brown Cow?” when I looked at her. Is that weird?) She liked trick-or-treating with me, but wanted to be carried for some reason. I think she was a little weirded-out by the other costumed kids on the street. I didn’t mind carrying her, except I started to worry that I looked like one of those trashy trick-or-treaters my sister and I ridicule. (You know the ones. They come from a different neighborhood and go door-to-door for hours with their un-costumed three-month-old baby, filling a pillowcase with candy meant for children. Children old enough to have teeth). I swear, Mirabelle and I only went to see the neighbors we know!
Here are lots of pictures from the big night.
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