For the second year in a row, we saw a slide in our trick-or-treaters index - a mere 18 cute costumed children showed up at our door last night. That's down from the more than 70 we had come by 2 years ago. It's even less than last year's all time low of 27.
I don't know about you, but I find these numbers disturbing. And when I find something disturbing, I blame the Obama administration. You know, you get those government nannies interfering in your life, regulating your chocolate consumption and banning flammable flashlights from China; and all the fun is drained out of the holiday. What we have now is a population too demoralized to even think about trick-or-treating. They're all huddled at home, hoarding their Reese's peanut butter cups and hiding from the vaccination police.
Or else, it was the steady rain that deterred them. That's a distinct possibility.
Speaking of Reese's peanut butter cups, there seems to have been a bumper crop this year. Or, at least, my kids harvested a lot of them last night. Yum.
Anna woke up sick (again) this morning. Worse, she seems to have given it to me. So, instead of doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, and getting some editing done, I spent the afternoon sleeping off a headache. To keep the kids busy, I popped in the 2-hour TV movie that kicked off the Little House on the Prairie series. I thought it was a safe choice. I was wrong. Thank you, Michael Landon, for embarrassing my children by kissing Ma Ingalls full on the mouth. Repeatedly. And one time in a drenchingly sexy downpour...
You know, that just didn't happen in the book.