I took a highly complex and statistically accurate quiz this morning, and apparently I should be a vampire for Halloween. Because I didn’t like that suggestion, I used an application on facebook which asked me one question and suggested I go as Jeeves the Headless Butler. And then I became totally distracted and entered to win a free Kindle, because wouldn’t that be cool?
Last year I was hugely successful as Lucille Ball for which I was awarded best costume at a party and went home with a giant frosted cookie and a trophy doubling as a Christmas tree topper. It left me with a tube of Are You Red-dy? lipstick and an impossibly uncomfortable pair of stunning ruby-red patent leather peep-toe pumps that I’ll probably never use again. It was totally worth the cookie though.
In order to top Lucy, I’ve been brainstorming possible costumes for the last month or so. So far all I’ve got is a vampire and Jeeves the Headless Butler. It’s called Creative Costume Block.
My kids, however, have known what they want to be for three months or so. Okay, that’s not true: they’ve change their minds about what they want to be for three months or so. Sport went from being Percy Jackson to Indiana Jones to Poseidon and back to Percy Jackson again. Sis went from Mother Nature to a black cat to a witch to Raggedy Anne back to the black cat and then to I-promise-not-to-change-my-mind-ever-again-mom, a unicorn, before settling in on a cowgirl. And Spunk will be Iron-Man. Life is simple when you believe in superheroes. It’s a universal truth, people.
I remember the good-ole days, before there was such a thing as plastic costumes, when kids were witches, athletes, hobos and clowns. When you used a pillowcase to collect candy instead of a designer, copyright-protected plastic baggie. Of course, those were also the days when ‘trick’ also meant overturnin’ an ornery farmer’s outhouse while he was still in it. Okay, so I don’t personally remember those days, but I’ve read about them.
Regardless, my kids live in these days where costumes are synthetic and go for about fifteen bucks at Walmart and where you have to perform background checks on the people distributing candy to avoid finding Anthrax in your Smarties (maybe I’ll be an urban legend for Halloween).
Truth is, I still don’t have a costume, nor have I secured costumes for my kids. I’m wishing that with the advent of modern technology I could actually print out our costumes and be done with it. I’d pay for that application.
Until then, I’ll do things the old fashioned way. We’ll make our own costumes using cardboard, electrical tape and yarn. Or, perhaps, aluminum foil, staples and pipe cleaners. Just kidding. My kids are totally going as mummies wrapped in medical gauze. No, really. We’ll go to WalMart and buy their costumes. And me? I’m going to win that Kindle and go as a boring mom reading Poe while trick or treating. I already have the outfit.