November 04, 2012

smell my feet

We used to be those parents who didn't allow their kids to celebrate Halloween.  We aren't those parents anymore.  I'm not sure what happened.  Peer pressure, I guess.  Or maybe, in the 7 years since we've become parents, we've looked evil straight in the face enough times that, really, four little kids in dressup clothes don't really scare us.
What is scary is my oldest running around for a week chanting, "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat."  We had hoped that living out of the country and all, we might avoid such American cultural unpleasantries.  When I asked Bright where he had heard that phrase, he replied, "I read about it in a book."  Great.  Just like the rest of the world, my children are learning about the USA second-hand, through the media!  Now there's something scary.

Speaking of Americans, there's a bunch of us living in this city, and when we got all of our little ghouls together it was a thing to behold.  You can be sure the neighbors were wondering whether we'd all lost our minds.
How did we pull off trick-or-treating, you ask?  Sonya roped the store-owners on our street into passing out candy to our kids.  The store-owners didn't really know why they were doing it, but they were happy to oblige.  Our kids LOVED IT!  It was like a great, big, chewy bite out of home.  I could almost smell pumpkin guts, dead leaves, and apple cider.


After trick-or-treating there was a rooftop party, where we stuffed our bellies with frosted sugar cookies and orange Fanta, and watched Charlie Brown on a projector against a brick wall at dusk.  I have to say, this mama had about as much fun as any kid there.  It felt so good to act like the American that I am, even if it was in the name of Halloween;)
Dr. Brave with his buddy, Batman (Zeb).
Bright with his buddy, Cameron.