Breast Feeding: A Trick or Treat?

My wife and I took our kids trick-or-treating with some friends for Halloween. It has become a tradition that we stop at the governor's mansion, which isn't far from our house. The governor and his wife actually hand out candy like political favors, which is pretty cool for the kids.

The governor happens to be a democrat, but we're equal opportunity trick-or-treaters. I checked with Belle, and she says republican chocolate and democrat chocolate taste the same. I've never had libertarian chocolate, but I've heard many libertarians put funny stuff in their brownies to give them an extra kick. Wait a second--maybe that explains my tummy ache after trick-or-treating back in 1983!

Anyway, Belle was dressed as Pebbles this year, complete with the triangular dress and the bone in her pigtail. Her baby brother Johnny was Dino--you know, Fred Flintstone's dog. We got Belle dressed and asked, "Who are you dressed as?" And Belle replied, "JESUS!" I said, "Maybe next year, sweetheart."

So we're walking up the driveway to the governor's mansion, and we pass other kids walking out. A four-foot tall Captain Jack Sparrow says, "Go back, it's totally not worth it. They take a long time and all you get is crackers." Apparently Captain Jack is a libertarian.

After we finished trick-or-treating, we handed out candy at our house. Most of the kids are sweet and cute. But there's a new phenomenon I like to call "transplant trick-or-treaters." These are the kids that gather all the treats in their neighborhood, then get their parents to drive them to another neighborhood to get more. It seems a bit much to me, but I don't have a big problem with it. Except for the girl who got out of her parents' car in front of our house and the first thing she said was: "Mommy, where are we?" I tried shouting, "The governor's mansion!," but my wife covered my mouth as I was trying to get it out.

The award for Most Memorable Monster of Halloween 2006 goes to a boy who rings our bell and says, "Trick or treat." I give him a healthy handful of candy, a potpourri of sugar. He says, "Thank you." I say, "You're welcome, Happy Halloween." He stands there for 10 seconds staring at me. I'm not wearing a costume, yet his eyes are big as saucers. I'm like, "What?" Still staring, the boy says, "Nothing," and hastily closes his bag and takes off. I turn around and there's my wife, breastfeeding our son in the kitchen, in full view of the door. (She thought the high chair was giving her cover.) Now, I don't think the little goblin could see anything inappropriate, but clearly he got a little more of a treat than expected. Poor kid will probably never see "milk chocolate" the same again.

I guess the moral is, no matter how we lean on the political spectrum, we can all put our differences aside for a night of glucose-glazed bliss, whether it's at the gov's, my house or some random neighborhood where your parents dropped you off.

If you enjoyed this, please tell a friend.

Next up: My Car Seat? The Back of a Pinto

Sincerely,
Chris

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2006, all rights reserved.

Quoth My Daughter: 'Arm in Fireplace...'

My daughter Belle just celebrated her second birthday last weekend by frosting her own face and strategically placing 25 VeggieTales stickers in her hair. "Belle pretty," she declared.

Two-year-olds are at a fun age when they think outloud. Which is handy for a parent because they declare what they're about to do before they actually do it. For example, Belle said "Pet kitty... pet kitty" on her way to pet Grandma's 145-year-old cat named Snickers, who loathes touching from anyone, especially an overzealous two-year-old with grubby hands. Fortunately, Snickers is happy to hiss (providing fair warning) and doesn't pounce unless absolutely necessary.

The party almost went up in flames when Belle declared "Arm in fireplace... arm in fireplace" en route to Grandma's inferno. Luckily, we were able to pounce faster than Snickers The Cat and Belle was unscathed.

Belle opened presents. She loved the life-sized Larry Cucumber balloon, "Belle's favorite" character, as she likes to say. She promptly used it to "tap" her little brother on the head. It's not that she's bratty. She's just, well, two. She says "please" and "thank you." In fact, her first word was "please." True story. Of course, her second word was "bling."

My wife had rehearsed with Belle all week for her Birthday Cake Moment of Truth, singing Happy Birthday and then saying, "What comes next, Belle?" Belle would say, "Candles!" and proceed to make a blowing noise. But when the Birthday Cake Moment of Truth arrived, Belle stared at her VeggieTales birthday cake as if Larry Cucumber had just been diced for a salad. It was a true Singing Frog moment. Just before I broke into "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal," Grandma and Mommy intervened to help Belle blow out the candles and we all had cake, made with freakishly great skill by my sister.

Food was the order of the day, though. When I woke up the morning before the party, I could have sworn I smelled bananas. I look to my left and, sure enough, there's a half-eaten yellow piece of fruit on my pillow! Apparently my wife and daughter had decided they couldn't finish; so they made Daddy an impromptu breakfast in bed. Aw, and it wasn't even my birthday!

I guess the moral is that kids are always full of surprises. Unless they broadcast their thoughts before they take action. Something tells me I won't have that advantage when Belle's a freshman.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please pass it along to a friend or send me a note. Or, if you think it's the most pathetic thing you've ever read, do the same.

Next up: Breast Feeding -- a Trick or Treat?

Sincerely,
Chris

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2006, all rights reserved.