A Message from Our Sponsor's Dependent

I just don't understand kids today. It's Halloween, you're in a costume, you're knocking on someone's door, you want candy. You have ONE responsibility.

Say "Trick or Treat". This is not a welfare depot.

And you: 52-year-old woman who doesn't speak English and is holding open a plastic shopping bag. Get a life.

And you parents there: the hell are you letting your kids knock on a door with all the lights turned off?

But besides that, it was a pretty cool night. Since Ryan is gonzo over "The Jungle Book" and he got an elephant hat a year ago at a friend's party, Ryan went as said pachyderm. So I went as the Maharaja. The Indian Cowboy and his Trusty Steed. With Tusks.

We'd planned on just going across the street to his buddy Jonathan's, maybe hit a couple more houses up the street; it was just past 6 and still fairly light out, so we caught a couple people unprepared (though they understood when they saw the little munchkin), but they all thought he was adorable with his "lick or leet!", "tenk you", and "Halloween!" (He's substituting "L"s for a lot of letters these days, especially "T" ('lactor and lailer!') and "J" as in our cat Larrime.) And every time I tried to turn for home, he wanted to go up to the next house, and the next, (then rustle through some gutter leaves), then the next, then go to the park (no.) and finally home in the pitch dark.

It was a little hard to eat dinner with my costume still on, so Ryan helped.