The Cat's Meow

Halloween is right around the corner. I happen to love Halloween. I get into the costumes and the candy and the scaring of the neighborhood children. Did I tell you how last year Kenny hid in the bushes, set Emmi and Jill out front with the candy dish, then scared the crap out of a group of about ten junior high kids when they came to trick or treat at our house? The best part of the whole thing was the neighbor across the street video taped it from his driveway where he was handing out candy. The girls screamed. But the boys? They ran! And screamed, high pitched little squeals. We heard kids telling the story for the rest of the night and for several weeks after. Jill is still known as the kid whose dad hid in the bushes on Halloween. I am already planning what we will do this year. It has to top last year. We have to live up to our reputation. And I should probably also get with the program in the Halloween costume department.

Emmi's we have figured out. I actually lucked out. Sitting in my bedroom is a picture of Jill at four and Emmi at seven months. They are decked out in the Halloween costumes. Jill is a pink witch, Emmi a black cat. The picture cracks me up, because of what you can't see. Emmi could not hold her head up. So to get the shot, we had to put a pillow under the white screen, lift Emmi's head, then click the picture before her head clunked down. It was hysterical. And a bit sad. But mostly funny, because everyone, including Emmi, was laughing. And somehow, the picture is perfect. A few weeks ago, Emmi noticed the picture for, perhaps, the first time. And insisted that she MUST be a pink witch for Halloween. Then, by random luck, I cleaned the storage bins in the garage (That isn't the lucky part. That part fucking sucked.), and shoved at the bottom of one was the pink witch costume. Preserved in perfect condition, lacking only black tights. Hell yes. One down, one to go.

Jill has been more difficult. First she was going to be Demi Lavato. I assumed that would work out as good as the Hannah Montana costume of last year. She would deem the wig too itchy, the jacket too hot, and the shoes too tight. Therefore ending up in a white t-shirt, a purple skirt, and flip-flops, looking pretty much like she does everyday. I vetoed that idea. She moved on to Taylor Swift, because she could "wear her real hair" and just carry her guitar. Right. I can see where this is going. I am going to end up carrying that guitar all through the damn neighborhood, while, no doubt, carrying Emmi at the same time. Veto again. Then I had a brilliant idea. Jill and her friends play this game. The Cheetah Game. It basically consists of chasing the boys that she thinks are cute around on the playground, while calling themselves The Cheetah Team. She now loves cheetahs. And Tyler. But we are not allowed to talk about how cute Tyler is. I suggested she be a cheetah. A tail. Some ears. I am sure I could find something.

Something would be one word for the costumes I found. Hooker would be another.

For that sassy little eight-year-old, who loves come hither looks and flipping her tail around. The website promises me she will be the "cat's meow" in this one.

And I know, perhaps, only my child loves cheetahs. So for the rest of you.

Don't worry. It now comes in sizes 4-6x, too!