Trick or Treat

Dear Laney,

On Halloween night, you got all monkey-suited up again, and we went into Alberton so you and Cedar could go trick-or-treating together. Cedar jazzed up her monkey ensemble with a tutu, because if there's one night a year when more is more, it's Halloween.

It took you guys about two houses to figure out that knocking on doors = strangers handing you candy.

Every year around this time, news stations across the country do stories on Halloween safety - usually about how Halloween Can Turn Deadly (insert ominous organ music here). The first two tips they always give are: Don't let your children enter the house of a stranger, even if that stranger promises there's more/better candy inside AND Always inspect your child's candy before letting her eat it. You broke these two rules immediately, and at every house.

Building a rocket that can go to the moon is difficult. Explaining to a two-year old that she doesn't need to eat all the candy from House #1 before moving on to House #2 is impossible.

By the time we had made it to our fourth house, you had consumed enough sugar that you had the shakes, and were running in circles on the sidewalk in front of us, yelling, "ARE YOU COMING, GUYS?!?!?"

I shot about 70 photos and video clips while we were trick or treating, only to come home and discover that my memory card had been corrupted. With the help of a few editor friends and a file-recovery company in Denmark (seriously, I had to pay in Euros), I was still only able to save a few seconds of video:

It took you forever to fall asleep that night, and still you woke up at 3am calling my name. I went upstairs and asked, "What is it? Are you okay?" and you said, "'Es go back Cedah's How-een potty," a.k.a. "Let's go back to Cedar's Halloween Party."

Next year, baby. Next year.

Love,

Mom

I want to thank The Other Brooke for saving the day by sharing the photos she took that night so your monkey hijinks can be preserved for posterity.