You had me at Decapitated Bunny

Happy Halloween!

I spent the day in the basement, chugging lattes and churning out 2 costumes. This morning I got a call to substitute in a classroom. I had already waived the chance to volunteer for someone else on the 31st, but declined that offer weeks ago, knowing full well my carpet would be stuck with pins and my machines whirring up a storm today.

Who could resist this?

It had to become a lab coat for a crazed veterinarian. I took measurements but still it was Huge. What the . ..? (Better to wear every year hence, I say. I think it may even fit me.)

We've been having Alice in Wonderland moments. The Veterinarian's trying-on moment was Quite the Opposite of the younger brother, whose jumpsuit was lying on the couch this morning. After his fitting, everyone else in the room commented how it looked so big lying there, they didn't believe it would fit him - but there he was, dressed in a perfectly fitted blue fuzzy jumpsuit.

Earlier in the day, I sewed careful, even, secured, seams, pressed, with top stitching. The works. By the afternoon, it was all fusible web and safety pins. *sigh* The younger one went as Squirtle and I am happy he didn't notice he didn't have a tail. It's days like today I am forced to remember to put things in perspective. And remembered that it is several times a day that my kids don't even need a clothing change to pretend they are someone or somewhere else. The accessories can help cement the trip for others though.

I do love making costumes, but it is beyond me to actually get them done before Halloween. I would be happy with having them finished on the 30th. But as long as I can remember having kids, it has been a seat-of-the-pants kind of thing.
And here I was Today, thinking about all the costumes my parents helped me with. I remember clearly a red hooded windbreaker becoming a little devil outfit complete with a wood pitchfork my dad made for me. And the smell of the burnt cork used another year to blacken around my eyes when I was a ghost. Once, I was the Pocket Lady. I am not sure what was up with that. I do remember lots of pockets (duh) on my shirt and I stuffed them, curiosity cabinet like, with tiny plastic figures and other bits and bobs from the house.
Tonight, my little gremlins are off collecting their loot, I'll post pictures tomorrow. I am home playing crazy housewife - vacuuming and waiting for kiddies. I have glow sticks, thanks to the Shingled One, and gummy eyeballs, something I won't eat. OK, I've already had one. I didn't think I would be tempted, because basically, they looked gross. But now sadly I know they taste like lemony marshmallows... I am going to bestow handfuls on the next unsuspecting kids. Kids. I use that term loosely around here. The last, ahem, young ladies that came to the door were fully developed and without costume. So I razzed them a bit and they told me they were "Roca Girls 'cause they are urban." I think I am becoming more old-fashioned each year.

Along the lines of not-quite-a-costume, back in the day when The Smoking One and I lived in TN, I think we saw our Best Ever Sort of A Costume. A little guy came to the door. He must have been 3 or 4, and written across his forehead in marker was Simba with the "s" all backward you better believe it. And you better also believe it, he was Simba! He was strutted back down the steps so proudly while the SO and I smirked.
Nothing so charming tonight. Bah humbug.