Halloween is in full force at our house.  My 2 year old has created a song that goes a little something like, “Hallo-ween, hallo-ween, Hall-o-ween. Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit. DING!”  (in real life it has quite the ring to it)  Our house is decorated, our costumes have already been worn in a few (or many many more) times, and mommy has sampled a few (or many many more) tiny chocolate candy bars.  (you know, just to make sure they weren’t poisonous…they’re not)

In short, we are ready!  (although I might need to stop by the store to get some more tiny candy bars.  Our bags seem to be mysteriously low.)

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays.  When I was a kid, it was for the candy.  As a co-ed I liked the party of it all.  And then as an adult, the anonymity of donning a costume reminded me of what it must have been like ages ago at masked balls.  Dancing around in circles under the candlelight having no one the wiser as to who you are…but perhaps I’ve just been reading too many romance novels.  And now, Halloween  has morphed again, becoming once more the excited happiness of youth.  Seeing my little ones (I still can’t believe I have little ones) bounce about in transfixed joy and curiosity gives me more delight than imaginable.  Talking about mummies and ghosts and spiders – I’m in heaven.

So when I read Over In The Hollow (by Rebecca Dickinson) tonight for the 97th time, I will thank my lucky ghouls, because having kids at Halloween is well, awesome.


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