I am exceedingly bummed that party season is over but rest assured, our Halloween festivities went out with a bang.
Bode and I attended Haddie’s preschool party where we played with worms, decorated cookies, made bags of popcorn hands and watched Hadley flirt with the cutest boy in class.
I blame the kitty/bunny-turned-cat ears/playb*y bunny costume.
That night, the party raged on. We live in a new development with loads of families and we always have a huge parade that is led by a firetruck.
Bode was in his element.
Though I didn’t have the heart to tell him firemen are notorious for their association with Dalmatians, not husky dogs.
(As a side note, Hadley has been obsessed with getting either of those two breeds. In an attempt to dissuade her, we did some online research. I determined that Dalmatians are not snugly and husky dogs are not nice family-friendly dogs. So, guess what Haddie prays for every night? That huskies will become nice and for Dalmatians to be snugly. The good Lord must have a sense of humor.)
The Great Pumpkin miraculously survived until Halloween, though it was oozing great, orange gobs of greasy grimy pumpkin guts. The stench could be smelled a couple of houses away. I secretly hoped some teen-age punks would do us the honor of smashing it for us on Halloween night.
They may be punks but they’re not stupid.
We awoke on Saturday to find our pumpkin unscathed. And so Jamie had the disgusting task of disassembling it and hauling it over to the new pumpkin patch to use as compost.
I stayed as far away as I could and busied myself with taking down the Halloween decorations. I quickly realized I did not have enough bins to accommodate everything. Disgruntled, I went out to Jamie and complained about my situation.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 