We still don’t have the foggiest idea what kind of costume we’ll wrestle Indiana into. I’m leaning toward just putting a necktie around her and printing up a foreclosure notice for her to hold. She could go as John Reardon.
Not to suggest that Reardon waltzes about the Lyons Avenue offices of Union Bank in a diaper.
Office hours or otherwise.
Indy’s a baby. She doesn’t know Halloween from the Infield Fly Rule. There’s an idea. We have to watch our daughter like a certified insane asylum worker because she’ll pick up anything three pounds and under on the floor and put it in her mouth, including bugs. With a little make-up, she could go as Renfield, Dracula’s spider-eating assistant. Point being, as a baby, Miss Indiana has to seriously limit her candy intake.
How do you take a baby trick or treating? It’s not like we’re going to go knock on the neighbors’ doors, hold a hand up when they start shoveling in Baby Ruth bars into a pillow case and correct them: “Sorry. Do you have any cans of Similac or perhaps a pint of mother’s milk laying about?”
We’re just going to have grin, put on a game face and accept all those little bags of M&Ms.
Her mother and I will have a solemn duty to perform. It will be a sacrifice. But we’re going to have to eat Indy’s candy. All of it.
My own childhood experiences of Halloween are not of much use. I’m so old, when we went trick or treating, we got meat. With the hair still on it.
Costume-wise, I’d like to sort of skate through this first Halloween. It’s not the money, but I can’t see spending $40 for a costume she’ll wear for 20 minutes and, adding insult to pocketbook, will more than likely relieve herself in it to boot.
Yes. Something simple would be nice.
The simple thing is to just throw on her weekday duds and she could go as a cowgirl.
I could take some tin foil, make some baby handcuffs and tie her little hands behind her back.
She could go as a sweathog from Bowman Continuation School.
Of course, being a parent, you have to be careful of not setting subconscious patterns into motion. Life does imitate art.
Indy could go as Congress. Both are big babies.
I could slap the City seal on her, pull down her britches so her little bottom crack shows. She could go as the City of SClarita’s Master Plan — 13 years old and still in its infancy.
We actually have a large cardboard Monopoly card of Indiana Avenue. My daughter could go as real estate.
I still have a few hours left to figure out my daughter’s first Halloween costume.
Maybe I’ll just dress her in regular, every day clothes and teach her not to bounce.
Yup.
She could go as a Baptist.
With 119 major writing awards, John Boston has been noted as one of America’s top humorists and political satirists. Look for his major monster boffo new multimedia international news, humor and entertainment website coming real darn soon now! It’s sort of like the old Escape, on mega-steroids.