crap, it's almost halloween ...

at least it feels like it around here. day after day the catalogs roll in. fancy costumes that cost a fortune and fall apart while my kids are still standing in the driveway.

yes, i've bought them.

yes, i'll continue to buy them.

why? genetics.

you see, in spite of the fact that i do consider myself a fairly creative person, i inherited "costume-block" from my mom.

i just don't see it: how to take a relatively normal-looking person and transform them via wildly creative, innovative and inexpensive measures in to something akin to a mardi gras float.

my mom couldn't pull it off when we were kids and, so far, i haven't managed to overcome this disability either.

so, i resort to buying them.

one year i did manage to recycle riley's dalmatian costume by stuffing wyatt in to it and then dressing riley up like cruella deville. that was pretty cute and maybe my highest score yet.

but this year, dangit, the superhero thing just won't go away.

and now the catalogs have gotten greedy ... they're including costumes for EVERYONE ... including mom, dad and the dog.

so, picture this: one big happy family, all dressed up from "The Wizard of Oz", heading out for an evening of group trick or treating.

this is the subliminal message i hear: "if you love your kids you and john will dress up like a big dorks and walk around in the dark asking for candy from your brand new neighbors who still, at this time, are under the assumption you're relatively normal. that assumption, of course, will be dashed into a million tiny pieces when they spot a 6'7" transvestite named dorothy on their front porch."

so wyatt's been hauling around his library of costume catalogs and our recent conversations are going something like this:

wyatt: "i want to be spiderman for halloween."

me: "yeah, buddy, you just told me that 200 times while i was buckling your carseat."

wyatt: "oh, well i want YOU, mommy, to wear THAT (pointing at the wonderwoman costume)"

me: "wow. i'm not dressing up like wonderwoman. i gave birth to your giant 10 pound 4 ounce head. that gets me out of halloween costumes forever. it's in the rule book."

wyatt: "well, can aunt bea be "spiderdog" then?

me: "i don't know how to make a "spiderdog" costume, buddy."

wyatt: "you don't have to you can just buy it right here."

and sure enough, there it is: the "spiderdog" costume.

i don't know, it'd be pretty cute. a little boy and his dog. spider-buddies.

plus, it'd be pretty good revenge on aunt bea for all the chewing she's been doing. "fine, you want to chew up my patio furniture? then you're going in to "spiderdog" timeout. wear this for a while and let's just see how badly you want to chew on my stuff."

as for riley, my sweet little innocent girl who can't bear for my bra strap to slip out and expose itself because it's "inappropriate" ... well, she wants to be "bad sandy" from the end of "Grease", not "sandy in the stupid skirt" from the beginning. nooooo, she wants to be tight-black-pants-cigarette-smoking-red-lipstick-wearing-shimmying-on-the-carnival-ride-in-johntravolta's-face sandy.

like i said before ... crap, it's almost halloween.