Noah still won't dress up for Halloween, by the way. Won't even consider it. In the past we've managed to get him semi-costumed at the 11th hour via:
While I was debating which one of these FANTASTIC options to go with this year, my mom actually had an inspired idea: Why not just let Noah wear his karate uniform?
I asked Noah what he thought about that: It would look like a costume without actually being a costume. We'd be playing a little trick on people, kind of.
He liked that idea. He liked that idea a lot.
"Everyone will think I'm the Karate Kid from the movie but actually I'm just Noah the Karate Kid. From real life."
It didn't exactly make for very exciting pictures, but still. This is easily the happiest he's ever looked on Halloween.
And everyone in the neighborhood was completely fooled by his non-costume costume.
Ezra, on the other hand...
Ezra just can't even deal with any of y'all right now.
I mean, God. You people.
Around 5:30 pm, Young Master Ezra was sent to his room for a time out. By 6:00 pm, I was scrambling to make the boys some non-chocolate form of sustenance while simultaneously answering the door for early-bird trick-or-treaters and gathering up costumes and realizing that I couldn't find the boys' beloved Pumpkin Buckets (hence the last-minute procurement of They-Only-Had-Cauldron Buckets by Jason, a substitution that damn near RUINED HALLOWEEN)...and Ezra was sound asleep.
Sound asleep and not at all happy to be dragged out of bed and propped semi-upright at the table in front of a sad bowl of non-sugary pasta.
His mood did not improve with the addition of his little chef's jacket and hat.
(The giant RANDOM HIVES ON HIS FACE didn't help either.)
Stop taking my picture or I will beat you with this wee wooden spoon, woman.
Real chefs have knives, anyway. This is the worst Halloween ever.
Like last year, Ezra tried to pitch us on HIS version of trick-or-treating: Grab candy from house bowl, deposit in bucket, done. So streamlined! So simple! With no walking around in the scary dark AND less time between the acquisition of candy and the face-stuffing part.
We didn't go for it. He showed up at a good five or six doorsteps still sobbing his eyes out about it. "TICK OH TREAT," he bawled to several slightly alarmed homeowners, miserably accepting Reese's Cups and lollipops before FINALLY snapping out of it and realizing that all told, this Halloween thing is a PRETTY GOOD DEAL.
(Please note that the one person in the house who could have been worn any costume of my choosing without means of protest was basically dressed as Mommy Bought a Hat* & a Onesie On Sale At Old Navy, What More Do You People Want From Her, Jesus Christ, She's Tired.)
(If you're wondering where the pictures of my costume are, I didn't take any. I went as an Exhausted Suburban Wrangler of Many Small Children. I wore jeans and a headscarf and an overwhelming sense of not giving a shit.)
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out how sneak all the Red 40 and Yellow 5 dyes out of Noah's candy stash before I have to peel a six-year-old gremlin off the ceiling later today. Because yes. Every year we go through all this sturm und drang over costumes and parties and trick-or-treating...and then everything fun magically vanishes the next day and I leave them with like, a bag of pretzels and one Hershey's fun size.
*The hat actually says "BOO!" on it, but I now realize I put it on him backwards. I WIN AT EVERYTHING.