candy asses

I've figured out why celebration of Halloween has grown exponentially over the years.

It's just another excuse for a grown-up cocktail party.

Some neighborhood parents assembled at the Slus house last evening for food and drinks. They're on a high-traffic corner so they get a lot of trick-or-treaters. All our kids are officially old enough to go out on their own, so we can relax outside for a couple of hours and eat and drink and shove the bowls of candy toward the kids and snarl, "Here, help yourself. NO, just one. Now say thank you. Say THANK YOU, you little bastards!"

There's no way I could outdo last year's Chef Boyardee costume, so I didn't even bother this year. Boo went out as Chris Angell, or however pretentious way he spells his name, and Remy was Elwood. One Blues Brother. They returned home with 10.6 pounds of candy, slightly short of the record 11 pounds.

And what's up with Dum Dum pops? And Smarties? Kids HATE them. Back in the day, you got regular size candy bars, maybe some Good N Plenty or JuJubes or something, but mostly it was chocolate, and lots of it.

These days you get prissy, diminutive Dum Dum pops and Smarties and those horrible Nerds, and maybe an individually wrapped Lifesaver. What's the frigging point of THAT? Might as well just open the door and throw sugar packets at the kids.

And those...little jelly things shaped like hamburgers and hot dogs from the dollar store. WTF?! What moron thought these were a good idea? Kids are savvy these days, they know the dollar store candy from the good stuff, and they'll just toss that cheap shit. Don't waste your money. Well, it's only a dollar, but still.

not such a bad day after all

Who knew, with my disdain for Halloween, that both boys would go on to win several costume awards?

J's mime outfit won for best costume in his class and at his Adventure Guides
party.

E's Chef Boyardee here also won him 2 awards, one for Most Original in his 6th grade class (minus the identity-protecting shrubbery). Plus, I'm pretty certain he improved his street cred with his classmates. I mean, what better way to earn the respect of your peers than to go trick-or-treating dressed as a huge can of spaghetti? I underestimated these boys; E went out with a group of about 10 boys, and I was certain they'd find a hill to roll him down. But they didn't, and he received compliments throughout the neighborhood.

Between the two of them, they came home with about 9 pounds of candy, less than last year's record-setting 11 pounds.

Halloween was also notable because I was called in for the first time to sub.

The teachers snickered when I came in, with knowing, snarky comments like "hahaha, they called you in on HALLOWEEN, the MOST STRESSFUL day of the year? Have FUN!" Followed by more evil laughter.

The day consisted mostly of just keeping the kids in their seats, keeping the noise level down, and judiciously doling out lavatory passes. Later in the afternoon they went home to put their costumes on. They returned for the parade, followed by their class parties, which was all they can think about all day so keeping them focused was a challenge. This being first grade, it wasn't all that difficult; I brought out all my cartoon voices and wacky blackboard cartoons and my big gorilla head, and they were satisfied. Or at least stunned into submission.

One kid was talking about Toy Story and I got right in his face and pointed at him and said, "YOU come down in your stupid cardboard spaceship and take away everything that's important to me!" He looked startled at first but then lightened up and said, "Hey, that's from Toy Story 1! How did you know that?" He was clearly impressed.

My job there was done.

halloween, schmalloween

Halloween is probably my least favorite holiday.

It used to be ok; when you were really young, you wore the plastic mask with the sharp edges and the eyes cut out, with the snappy elastic loop on the back, coupled with a plastic barbershop smock printed with your favorite TV or movie character of the day.

Later you could dress up as something lame, like a hobo or a hippie or a housewife with mom's curlers in your hair. There were no curfews back then, and you didn't want to go out until after dusk anyway. It wasn't cool.

You could go to everyone's house--nobody was off-limits, not even the single, middle-age scary guy in the apartment building nearby. Back then, you got full-size candy bars, and you collected them in an old pillowcase. Your favorite house was where they gave out apple cider and doughnuts.

You tossed the apples. Some things don't change.

Today, of course, it's a different story. Kids are on the street shortly after school lets out, paranoid parents trailing behind, and police sweep the streets at 8 pm like it's Baghdad, shooing them home. (In our neighborhood, smart parents walk around with a wagon of ready-made cocktails, and one guy sets up a bar in the front yard for the grown-ups.)

But it's the violent nature of Halloween these days that has turned me off the holiday. Halloween is supposed to be eerie...spooky...scary. Not violent and bloody and disgusting. What's scary is the unknown, not the obvious. Is it really necessary to wear a costume in which rubber pick-axe has been shoved through the eye? Does your exposed rubber brain really have to be eaten up by maggots?

I guess after years of hearing about my distaste for Halloween, my boys have picked up on the vibe, and generally don't want to wear violent/scary costumes. But this year, I think they may have gone too far in the wrong direction.

J, the youngest, wants to be a mime. You know, an embarrassing French mime, with the whiteface, red striped shirt and a BERET, for godsakes. He might as well just wear a neon sign that says MOCK ME,THEN STEAL MY CANDY.

E wants to be a can of Chef Boyardee spaghetti. I can't even convince him to have fun with it, perhaps calling it "Chef Boo-yardee Spaghetti and Eyeballs." Nope. I'm currently painting his big body-sized can. He even wants the nutrition information on the back. Gee, why not get a friend to be a side salad?

Sometimes, you just teach your kids TOO well.