Dueling With Grandma At Halloween
Dressing up like an idiot and getting chocolate as a reward – isn’t Halloween a great reason to celebrate being an American?
I laid down the law in a firm manner that would make new dads everywhere proud. “There will be no money spent for a costume this year. Our baby will only drool on it.” His Mom felt the urge in the stores, but she was cool and resisted. She’s a law-abiding citizen, see.
In came, however, the long arm of Grandma’s checkbook! I got blitzed all the way from Corpus Christi and never saw it coming. Before I could say, “He’s a what?” our son was covered head to toe in green. He was dressed as three peas in a pod, complete with a pointy hat and three fluffy things that protruded from the front resembling mushrooms. Grandma was very clever. She went shopping in another town with one of the aunts and didn’t bother to consult either of us. (Of course, I don’t know for sure if Grandma ever heard the actual proclamation. I’m trying to make a point here and can’t be bothered with details.)
While I was checking legal books to see if Grandmas can get away with breaking laws laid down in firm manners, our baby was paraded away in his stroller along with cousins dressed as a flower, Pocahontas, Raggedy Ann, and two Renaissance maidens. They were well equipped with 14 cell phones, 89 flashlights, a wagon, and Hefty trash bags for dumping in the candy they collected so their buckets would appear empty when they went to the next street. Not one burp rag made the trek, however, so the costumes had to catch all the drool, which is what I said would happen in the first place. The smartest move in this spectacle was that the adult women drove the strollers instead of the children. Of course, the babies insisted on being carried so the Cadillac double strollers were empty.
Raggedy Ann checked the roots of every bush along the way to be sure nobody was going to jump out of it and scare her like last year. Pocahontas had a talking lantern that said the same phrase every time she pushed a certain button. The noise level, however, stayed about the same because her mouth was full of candy so the lantern simply filled in for her.
The family went all out for supper and grilled burgers and hot dogs with all the trimmings. The 102 kids in their costumes were so excited they ate a combined eight bites. Fortunately, I was there to assure them I’d finish their food so they wouldn’t get in trouble before they went trick-or-treating. I figured a good uncle would do no less. I don’t know how many pounds I put on that wonderful night, but when I started leaving footprints in the linoleum I moved to the recliner and started talking to a chemist about dry ice hoping nobody would notice my trail.
About the time I was calling my lawyer to get help on a sure case against Grandma, the entire crew came back to the house and our boy was back in his regular clothes. Seems the peas in a pod were starting to swelter in the Houston humidity. Mom quickly stripped him out of the costume before all of Houston heard how a five-month-old feels about being too hot.
I pride myself on being a good uncle, so I dropped my old body right on the floor where all the plastic pumpkins were being dumped to help “check” all this candy. Luckily, no damaged goods were found but Pocahontas was not concerned about that. For the life of her feathers, she could not understand why her parents had given me rules to confiscate all of her gum. After all, the last batch had stuck to the bottom of the furniture so securely it had to be quality stuff.
That’s when Wall Street began. I saw quickly why my worst collegiate grades were in economics. I had no idea two Reese’s were worth one Tootsie Roll in the purple pumpkin but only one Reese’s was worth two Jawbreakers in the black cauldron. If these kids were in charge of trading stocks for our family, we could have all retired years ago.
Now I know a few clever tricks myself, so I started consulting other veteran dads to inquire how to punish Grandmas who fail to follow the obvious financial rules. I got this advice.
“I’ll use small words so you will be sure to understand. Look in your wallet. See the money that is still in there. Shut up.”
I did get a bit of revenge in a round-about way. As Grandma walked up, her grandkids bounded out the door - to see her dog...
I laid down the law in a firm manner that would make new dads everywhere proud. “There will be no money spent for a costume this year. Our baby will only drool on it.” His Mom felt the urge in the stores, but she was cool and resisted. She’s a law-abiding citizen, see.
In came, however, the long arm of Grandma’s checkbook! I got blitzed all the way from Corpus Christi and never saw it coming. Before I could say, “He’s a what?” our son was covered head to toe in green. He was dressed as three peas in a pod, complete with a pointy hat and three fluffy things that protruded from the front resembling mushrooms. Grandma was very clever. She went shopping in another town with one of the aunts and didn’t bother to consult either of us. (Of course, I don’t know for sure if Grandma ever heard the actual proclamation. I’m trying to make a point here and can’t be bothered with details.)
While I was checking legal books to see if Grandmas can get away with breaking laws laid down in firm manners, our baby was paraded away in his stroller along with cousins dressed as a flower, Pocahontas, Raggedy Ann, and two Renaissance maidens. They were well equipped with 14 cell phones, 89 flashlights, a wagon, and Hefty trash bags for dumping in the candy they collected so their buckets would appear empty when they went to the next street. Not one burp rag made the trek, however, so the costumes had to catch all the drool, which is what I said would happen in the first place. The smartest move in this spectacle was that the adult women drove the strollers instead of the children. Of course, the babies insisted on being carried so the Cadillac double strollers were empty.
Raggedy Ann checked the roots of every bush along the way to be sure nobody was going to jump out of it and scare her like last year. Pocahontas had a talking lantern that said the same phrase every time she pushed a certain button. The noise level, however, stayed about the same because her mouth was full of candy so the lantern simply filled in for her.
The family went all out for supper and grilled burgers and hot dogs with all the trimmings. The 102 kids in their costumes were so excited they ate a combined eight bites. Fortunately, I was there to assure them I’d finish their food so they wouldn’t get in trouble before they went trick-or-treating. I figured a good uncle would do no less. I don’t know how many pounds I put on that wonderful night, but when I started leaving footprints in the linoleum I moved to the recliner and started talking to a chemist about dry ice hoping nobody would notice my trail.
About the time I was calling my lawyer to get help on a sure case against Grandma, the entire crew came back to the house and our boy was back in his regular clothes. Seems the peas in a pod were starting to swelter in the Houston humidity. Mom quickly stripped him out of the costume before all of Houston heard how a five-month-old feels about being too hot.
I pride myself on being a good uncle, so I dropped my old body right on the floor where all the plastic pumpkins were being dumped to help “check” all this candy. Luckily, no damaged goods were found but Pocahontas was not concerned about that. For the life of her feathers, she could not understand why her parents had given me rules to confiscate all of her gum. After all, the last batch had stuck to the bottom of the furniture so securely it had to be quality stuff.
That’s when Wall Street began. I saw quickly why my worst collegiate grades were in economics. I had no idea two Reese’s were worth one Tootsie Roll in the purple pumpkin but only one Reese’s was worth two Jawbreakers in the black cauldron. If these kids were in charge of trading stocks for our family, we could have all retired years ago.
Now I know a few clever tricks myself, so I started consulting other veteran dads to inquire how to punish Grandmas who fail to follow the obvious financial rules. I got this advice.
“I’ll use small words so you will be sure to understand. Look in your wallet. See the money that is still in there. Shut up.”
I did get a bit of revenge in a round-about way. As Grandma walked up, her grandkids bounded out the door - to see her dog...