We took Odessa out trick or treating for her first time on Saturday. When a few weeks ago we asked her what she wanted to be for Halloween, she said, “A robot!” We were looking into that, but as far as robot costumes go there seemed to be quite a disparity between peaceable and bellicose varieties, heavily in favor of the less friendly types. And since I wasn’t really ready for her to be a laser sword-wielding, titanium-clad contraption known only for the generous portions of death it bestowed most unhappily to the unwary townsfolk who happened to cross its path… yeah, because I wasn’t ready for that just yet, I decided to ask her again what she wanted to be for Halloween.
This time she said she wanted to be a fire fighter. This didn’t last very long, however, and it soon became clear that she wanted to be a robot fire fighter. All of this was starting to get out of hand for me. But thankfully, she again soon changed her mind and wanted to just be a fire fighter. That was something we could handle. Plus, making sure she looked cute and sweet was paramount because I wanted a lot of candy.
So we went out trick or treating. Odessa was quite hesitant of this at the onset. At the first house, she pushed the doorbell three times before we could stop her, but when it came time to saying “Trick or treat!” she clamped up and didn’t say anything. After a while she acclimated to the routine and things went a bit smoother.
We were in a very hilly area, and Serena, who is twelve months pregnant, understandably grew a bit fatigued. Thus, she stopped walking up to the doors, most of which were uphill and had stairs, and remained on the sidewalk while Odessa and I bagged the goods. I made the unfortunate observation to Serena that I had heard once that cows don’t like to go up hills. She punched me for that one, and I had to spend the next few minutes telling her that I thought she was beautiful. Which I do: I think she’s especially cute when she’s pregnant. She is enormous, though. Let’s be honest.
The other consequence of Serena remaining at the sidewalk was that Odessa wanted to show her every single piece of candy she acquired. “LOOK MOMMY I GOT THIS!” She referred to everything as “THIS!” It got to the point where she wouldn’t let people put candy in her bucket, preferring to be handed the candy so that she could show it off easier. If someone managed to get it in the bucket, we underwent a lengthy process wherein she had to extricate the new piece for the ritual of presentation.
After we finished a house she would always announce, verbatim, that we needed to “Go to another house with a door and a light on.” Every single time. If the walk between houses was a fair distance, we might be instructed on this five or six times.
Out of everything though, I think she most enjoyed helping to close doors. After the candy had been delivered safely to palm or bucket, she would reach out her arm and desperately try to grab onto the door to shut it. If it was a door that opened inward, she would attempt to invade the premises in order to accomplish this goal. If her efforts proved successful, a triumphant “I HELPED!” was exclaimed for the whole county to hear.
She had a good time, but she ended up getting pretty tired out. When she asked for a shoulder ride, we knew she was spent. I put the aspiring fire chief on my shoulders and we walked to the car; her thoughts most likely on all the fun she had while acquiring candy, my thoughts on all the fun I’d have eating it. We took some pictures and they are below. They aren’t especially well done, but they are entertaining.