Here we go again
I have shrugged off my post-Halloween Snickers and Laffy Taffy hangover in order to to kick off National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo. I have no idea how I am going to pull this off, and so I am just going to lace up my clogs, dig around in the back of the closet to find my blogging mojo and continue my tradition of Excellent Mothering Skills and try to come up with something to tell you about here for the next 30 days.
I will start by telling you that Trick or Treating was a definite success. Watching Goldie with her friend trying to remember to say both "Trick or Treat," "Thank you," and resisting the urge to actually GO INSIDE each house we went to was awesome. Even better, was seeing how, at 18 months old, Ruby trucked along behind The Big Girls and figured it out like a pro. My little baby bundled up in a bumblebee costume was on a Bataan Death March of Candy dragging her bag behind her because, Lady? DO NOT TOUCH MY CANDY. Are you looking at my candy? Are you thinking about my candy? That's what I thought. Now, open this here sleeve of Whoppers and lets get on our way, early evenings a' wastin. Not even falling on her face in Rage Against The Bullshit Handholding moment and splitting her lip stopped her. She walked up to each door and greeted The One With Candy with a shit eating bloody grin and said "Tweeeeeet!!" and grabbed a handful of candy. When prompted by The Manners Police who gave birth to her, she chirped "Welcome!" and hightailed it to the next porch light. She thinks that Your Welcome means: Please, Thank You and You Can Just Give Up Now and Give me What I Want Because You? Cannot Resist The Roob. She is so right.
By the end of the night she let me carry her and napped on my shoulder between houses. When we got back to our friends house and the older girls started trading, my wiley baby figured out that racket real quick. She would steal a piece of someones candy and then when they wanted it back, she offered her own version of Trick or Treat that I like to call Trade or Tantrum. It worked out pretty good for her.
The big one may be able to talk and floss, but watch out for the small one: She'll take your candy.
I will start by telling you that Trick or Treating was a definite success. Watching Goldie with her friend trying to remember to say both "Trick or Treat," "Thank you," and resisting the urge to actually GO INSIDE each house we went to was awesome. Even better, was seeing how, at 18 months old, Ruby trucked along behind The Big Girls and figured it out like a pro. My little baby bundled up in a bumblebee costume was on a Bataan Death March of Candy dragging her bag behind her because, Lady? DO NOT TOUCH MY CANDY. Are you looking at my candy? Are you thinking about my candy? That's what I thought. Now, open this here sleeve of Whoppers and lets get on our way, early evenings a' wastin. Not even falling on her face in Rage Against The Bullshit Handholding moment and splitting her lip stopped her. She walked up to each door and greeted The One With Candy with a shit eating bloody grin and said "Tweeeeeet!!" and grabbed a handful of candy. When prompted by The Manners Police who gave birth to her, she chirped "Welcome!" and hightailed it to the next porch light. She thinks that Your Welcome means: Please, Thank You and You Can Just Give Up Now and Give me What I Want Because You? Cannot Resist The Roob. She is so right.
By the end of the night she let me carry her and napped on my shoulder between houses. When we got back to our friends house and the older girls started trading, my wiley baby figured out that racket real quick. She would steal a piece of someones candy and then when they wanted it back, she offered her own version of Trick or Treat that I like to call Trade or Tantrum. It worked out pretty good for her.
The big one may be able to talk and floss, but watch out for the small one: She'll take your candy.
posted by Kirsten at
10:10 PM
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