My children anxiously await a yearly event at our church on Halloween night. They host “Trunk or Treat” for the children in our area. Cars are lined up, with elaborately decorated trunks and festive characters ready to dispense candy to little trick or treaters as they stroll by. It is a most awesome idea.
Last year we attended, and the event was held outdoors. The kids talked about it all year. So, imagine the disappointment when my Emme developed a fever the afternoon of the 31st. She immediately took to her deathbed to ward off further illness. Vowing that if she took a nap, all would be right with the world.
It appeared to work, because by mid-afternoon, she was feeling better. We decided it would be okay to go if Aunt Trish brought her little red wagon, so we could wheel Emme around so as to not overdo it. The house was abuzz with excitement as Cailey donned her princess ballerina fairy costume, Emme climbed into her karate gee, and Jensen was dressed as a 3 foot tall basketball star. Trish made costumes for us. We went as SuperMom. I wore my Superman pj bottoms, a glittery “S” on my chest, and a red cape that read “Super Mom”, lest anyone be confused. “Are those your pajamas?” Fiddledaddy queried, as I climbed into the van.
Like I never wear my pajamas in public.
Emme lasted in the little red wagon about 5 minutes. The skies were threatening rain, so most of the event had been moved indoors. Except for the trunks. Of the cars. A long line had formed so the kids could collect their booty before the skies opened up. We adults tried our best to keep things moving along. My Cailey stopped at each trunk and quizzed the occupants about the peanut content of their particular bowl of candy. “I’m allergic,” she explained to each and every car owner, while batting her bright blue eyes. I stood behind her hollering, “CAILEY, GO FOR THE REESES, SO MOMMY HAS SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR!
We all then moved indoors. With the other sardines. The bouncy houses, slides, and games were in our sanctuary. I heard that there was a promise of Starbucks Coffee and hotdogs indoors as well. Since I’m extremely claustrophobic, that was the only thing getting me in those doors.
We all split up with various offspring and cousins. Divide and conquer seemed our only safe option. The lines were long, the air was stagnate, and the Starbucks was gone. Supermom Trish and I looked at one another holding our children’s various costume pieces, shoes, prizes, and bags of candy. Like pack mules. Check please.
Finally, Fiddledaddy and I decided to grab our children and make a break for it. Besides, Jensen, who doesn’t care for enclosed spaces, had lost his sense of decorum two migraines ago.
One bright note to the evening is that Fiddledaddy and I discovered that if we made loud animal noises over the walkie-talkies, we could embarrass our children.
On the way home we stopped at Wendy’s so that we could feed the children something nutritious. And we added chocolate frostys because we didn’t have nearly enough sugar in the car.
After the children had climbed into their pjs, Emme began complaining that she didn’t feel well again. And no, I didn’t give her any Halloween candy. Just the Frosty. And that may have been what sent her over the abyss. She was sitting on my bed telling her daddy that the Tylenol chewables in the bubble gum flavor would make her throw up.
He’s gonna believe her next time.
I heard the rumbling. And the hurried attempt to scoop her up and get her into the bathroom. All in vain. I entered the room and followed the trail of chocolate frosty, mixed with chicken nuggets, fries, and bathroom floor hair. While Fiddledaddy deposited our girl into the tub for a much needed soak, I was left to clean up the mess. While gagging.
And still wearing my red supermom cape.
Oh well. What’s Halloween without a little carnage, after all.