Ah, Halloween...it is not my favorite holiday, but I do enjoy dressing up my kids and eating 75% of their candy (it's called the candy tax people).
Last night we were apparently the first trick-or-treaters out in the neighborhood. We do not have a set time, just that known rule that when dinner is over and it's dusk-like, you start trick-or-treating.
Our first stop was our wonderful neighbors who dumped more candy into their buckets than was necessary. Jillian not so politely turned down the candy thought because "I don't like chocolate." By the third time she said this we had a heart-to-heart conversation at the end of a driveway about manners.
My kiddos were total grouches this year. I don't know why. Aaron was over it by the fourth house and Jillian was all "I don't like chocolate" and I was all like "You don't turn down a Butterfinger!"
By the seventh or eighth house I was carrying a red wig and a fireman helmet. We were going to power through this if it killed me.
We did the small loop in our neighborhood and then worked our way home. It was the longest 40 minutes of my life, but reaped some amazing rewards.
I don't know if it was the fact that they were in school all day or what, but they just were not feeling Halloween this year. Better luck next year, I guess? I sure hope so...how else am I supposed to get all of those Butterfingers?
Oh, and on a side note, my husband posted a photo of my "cowgirl butt" on Facebook that not only sparked a conversation but ended up being a topic of discussion during the drill he ran this morning. It's like the Orlando Heart Walk all over again.