Halloween

A decided he wanted to be an orca for Halloween. A killer whale? you say. Like Shamu? the locals say. Yes, a killer whale, or as it is known in its less pejorative way here, an orca.

Naps for all small children and I sewed. My last iron was tossed haphazardly into a box in the move and the steam reservoir did not survive, so a new iron was purchased last weekend. It's a fancy Rowenta and I can honestly say I've never felt this way about an iron before. It irons like a happy five-hundred-degree slice of heaven; I feel like I should have Snow-White-esque woodland animals holding up my skirts as I iron.

I got most of the costume together, which only meant two trips to the dreaded Joann's fabrics. I have not placed the all-important white spots on either side of the orca's head, nor have I put the actual eyes in place. And I was debating whether or not the costume looked like a sixth grader's craft project and whether I should resew some seams or rethink the entire configuration, when my darling husband said to me, "He doesn't care. All he will remember is that he wanted to be an orca and his mommy made him an orca costume." So then I felt better. I'm a mommy who made her kid a costume, yay!

The orca's just one of several projects going here, but next week C is off for comp time for the awfulness that were the 70-to-80 hour workweeks and we'll get traction, I swear. Now I just need to get L and A together for a little mommy-indulgent Halloween photo shoot...

[Edited to add images: boy as orca, brothers as Calvin and Hobbes. Enjoy!]

Dia de los Muertos

We had Halloween. A went Trick-or-Treating for the very first time with his friend H. A was a lion, H was a firefighter. We met up with a mob of kids; A and H were the littlest ones in the group, adorable. The neighborhood wasn't super, lots of houses without lights and lots of big hills, so after a reasonable number of houses (under ten), we split H and A off from the big group and doubled back, hitting the houses on the other side of the street.

But A certainly understood trick-or-treating this year. C's "What do you say?" prompts to him for a "Thank you," resulted in a "Happy Halloween!" half the time after A overheard the mob of parents saying "Happy Halloween." He's still pretty cute.

We came home and trick-or-treated at our sweet neighbor's house, where she'd baked a batch of cookies especially for him, and he took off his costume and looked like he was ready to stay the night.

He got a small stash of candy, which is larger than any stash of candy he's ever had in his life. The funny thing is: he asked for a piece on Halloween night when we got home (a Tootsie Roll, a tiny one) and he hasn't asked for one since. This may be an out of sight, out of mind thing; it may be that we had birthday cake last night. But A's candy might disappear if this keeps up. We'll see if the other kids at school today remind him that he has candy.

In sickness news, I have been still sick, pretty much mute all weekend. Today my voice has started to come back and my head's not full all the freaking time, thankfully, but I've not been the world's most functional person. Saturday I took a midday nap; yesterday I fell asleep in front of the TV around 8:30 or so after my nap efforts were thwarted by two fighting cats (thanks, guys). I started cleaning and laundering this morning, which is always a sign that I'm feeling better. Unfortunately, crankiness is one of those signs too, but I've felt that all week.

Halloween at school

A got to wear his Halloween costume to school today, a lion costume. He's been practicing his roars and he's quite cute.

When I picked him up, he was wearing a different costume, a bright yellow bodysuit.

"Did he have an accident?" I asked.

"Oh no," his teacher said, "the lion was just too hot and we had some costumes donated, so we changed him. I hope that's okay." She hands me his lion costume and a plastic elastic-banded mask and ah, it's Pikachu.

I know A has no earthly idea who Pikachu is, but A got a glow stick at school and is happy, so whatever. We walk off together to the car.

A says, "Mommy, I'm Pikachu!"

"Yes, you are," I say.

"Mommy," A says, "what's Pikachu?"

"I don't know," I tell A, "but you're pretty cute."

We walk a little longer, and then he starts fake-sneezing: "Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Pikachu!"

"Bless you! Bless you! Does Pikachu have a cold?"

"No, Pikachu makes sneezes, Mommy," he says. Of course he does, sweetie.