About the cutest witch I’ve ever seen . . .
and not a bad night -- actually. Probably the best one so far in all our years of trick or treating. We only had three that wanted to participate -- the rest stayed home to hand out candy. At our house the rule is when you start middle school u r 2 old 2 trick or treat, but this time even Ricardo, who is only in 4th grade, opted to stay home -- he said, in his cute little Guatemalan accent -- it’s StoooPId.
The three who went walked, didn’t fight much, and got along. Our tradition is that Bart and I follow along in the van, keeping an eye on everyone.
Tony kept misjudging the size of his mask and caught it on the top of the van, smashing his face against his mask, and then crying. So this kid who cries at least 35 times a day for no reason smashes his face and starts to wail. Bart asked, “Did you hurt yourself” and he responded, screeching as only he can do, “Of COURSE I hurt myself, otherwise why would I be crying! DUH!
Bart and I got the giggles, which seldom happens
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