I had great plans, GREAT plans, which had to do with posting mind-boggling adorable pictures of my child in his brain-squishingly cute Halloween costume. You know, like Dianne did.
(so you could all make fun of me. Like Elesa made fun of Dianne.)
This was going to be the last post before my month-long blog vacation, so that I can concentrate all my (non-kid, non-husband, non-liturgical) energy on a completely ridiculous project.
We had the concept: the Dude would be a cuddley little bunny; his daddy would put on his magician rig, complete with top hat, and carry him around looking super-cute.
We had the costume, too - a wonderful soft fuzzy bunny outfit, with adorable little rabbit feet. (OF COURSE I had planned to design and sew some fabulous mammal myself. We ended up at Party City, which was fine with me - a relief, in fact.)
There was just one thing we hadn't counted on. The young man himself.
WHY did I think that this kid, who won't wear a hat for more than 5 seconds or a sock for a minute, would allow us to snap a hood with ears onto him? Why would I imagine he'd put up with that? Plus, the ears would flop over onto his face.
This was actually kind of convenient, as the did soak up the tears.
So I did get a few pictures - some outside the house, and some in the foyer at a friends' house. In them, Eric tries to smile, but Ian gazes at the camera with enormous serious eyes. Eyes that plead "I dare not speak up. Please contact Amnesty International. I'm begging you."
So those pictures aren't exactly like Dianne's.
See you in December.
