Halloween is just two weeks away and I have to put together costumes for the entire family. The baby is at least set with a hand-me-down, homemade cow costume that I created for her older brother when he was two and the only kid in the family. So, with the help of good storage, the baby is set - we've even got the bell. \
Last year I managed to pull together costumes for everyone, even Daddy, (Indiana Jones) for a wild party we attended ("we attended" - yeah, it was in the basement of the firehouse) but this year, I don't know if I can pull it off. The three year old keeps changing her mind. The boy knows what he wants to be, but the mom knows that that particular costume runs about $40 at Target, so she's holding off hoping he might change his mind to something simpler, like say....a hobo?
The weather is getting dramatic, the air is crisp and cool. I love this time of the year, but I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday is coming in two weeks.
Yes, in truth I still love my birthday. Big deal or small, I actually love sitting around a table hearing people sing happy birthday to me. Is that narcissism or do I merely have a case of Peter Pan Syndrome? Wait, could that be right? Peter Pan never grew up, so how could he have had birthdays?
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