The boys had a grand time, dressing up as various and sundry characters. Tre made an imposing Darth Vader, striding purposefully along, with his elbows held out just so. Very Darth of him. He practiced the breathing for some time too, and he had it down. It was generally too noisy to hear, unfortunately. Max was a dashing pirate, given to calling people “Scallywags!” I don’t know where he gets it, I really don’t. Raphael (Batman) was smugly pleased to note that he was a hero. The ONLY hero, he pointed out several times. He had a belt with a grappling hook, which he called a grabbling hook, much to my delight.
But whether they were heroes or not, all three boys got to go trick-or-treating not once, but TWICE. The first time was this afternoon, at my dad’s office downtown. Dad’s office is crammed full with entirely too generous people, who chucked great fistfuls of candy into the boys’ bags at every turn. Some people actually gave out Full Sized Candy Bars
That, I determined in all my motherly wisdom, is enough candy.
But no! Not enough! Because tonight Mom and Dad took the boys around the neighborhood, while I stayed home to fling candy at the children who stopped by. This is our arrangement. They go out with the kids; I stay home and maybe do the dishes. Mom tells me I don’t know what’s fun.
By the end of the evening they had collected a total of seven tons of candy. Each. I am sick.
Errr…THINKING about all that candy. Yeah.
In other news, I am overwhelmed with details. There is the house. The machinery of house purchasing is grinding along, but it turns out that we have radon. Radon! And although that may sound kind of cool, like it might be a super power, or a distant star, it turns out not to be cool at all, and seems to be making our Realtor’s life very difficult.
All sources say radon abatement is not a difficult thing. Plans are being made. Sober discussions of who will pay for it are being held. This will be dealt with.
Deep inside, I can’t help but wonder about the veracity of the radon reports. I mean, it’s a colorless, odorless, undetectable gas that just happens to cause lung cancer. How do we know it wasn’t made up by some gang of home inspectors, over a poker game one night?
It’s not the sort of theory you want to gamble on though, you know? I mean, we are talking about my actual babies’ actual lungs here…
So we’ll abate.
And in the meantime there’s all the paperwork of financing. Good Lord. It’s like a financial pelvic exam. Every day there’s a new request for another form, and I’m starting to feel a bit invaded upon. I’m clutching my financial shirt to my bosom and giving the Powers That Be a very disapproving look.
But Hey! There’s also the wedding to plan! And I don’t want you to think we’re not on top of that too! Just the other day Raphael crawled into bed with me, to greet the morning. We chatted a while, and he said casually,
“You know, in that movie we saw ‘Dog of Flanders,’ they had a wedding.”
“Yup, and in their wedding they had CAKE.” He nodded at me meaningfully. “Yum.”
“Oh. Do you think we should have cake when Clay and I get married?”
“Yes, I do.”
So it’s settled. There will be cake. Now that we have that detail out of the way, the wedding’s practically planned, right? I mean, how much more can there be to decide? Right? Why are you laughing at me?
To sum up, radon shall be slayed, finances shall be put in order, there will be cake at the wedding, and my house is fraught with candy.
I believe I’ll have some now.