I feel like a fat ghost has parked it’s rear end on our heads in Cabin John this morning, which seems kind of fair for the morning after Halloween. It’s as if Casper got into too much Halloween candy and is kind of worn out this morning. Clara had a hard time getting out of bed today—with all the mist and fog it’s so much nicer in bed—and got lucky with a ride to school for once.
She went trick or treating with Irene and Mary, and Finn biked around with F. Sullivan. Matthew was here too. Finn and Clara both said the neighborhood seemed quieter than last year, maybe because it was a rainy Monday night—and Poppy and Grams had no trick or treaters! That surprises me. Our corner of Tomlinson Terrace was rocking, probably because the Fishburns generously hosted the annual block party again.
They said this might be their last year trick or treating, which makes sense since they (a) had no final costume decisions by 4.30 pm and (b) towered over the little ones in their fireman/princess/dinosaur/Mario brothers costumes. Clara opted for cowgirl and Finn stole Bali’s prop to become a maimed lion.
I loved seeing the little ones on our porch last night but going through the costume box was definitely nostalgic. I need to give away the Princess Jasmine gown, taekwondo guy, baby lion outfit and, hold still my heart, the tiny lady bug costume. That’s okay, it will make room for the Joker costume, the homecoming suit or dress, and the snowboarding gear that could be in the closets by this time next year.
@theterrace 