I volunteered to help with Drew’s Halloween party, and since someone else had signed up for paper products (damn!), I am bringing drinks. On Halloween, day of sugar and tooth decay.
I am a hardass about many things (see: TV, video games, computer time, chores) and drinks is on the list, at least for the boys. They drink milk or water except for Porter’s occasional four ounces of coffee in the morning. When there are special circumstances they’ll get soft drinks. This happens when I buy them out of the blue as a huge surprise and they freak out and think “Whoa! Mom DOES love us!”.
I also use carbonated beverages as an upper, when I need the boys to be especially hyper. For example, I got them all jacked up on Coke and Mountain Dew before the Maroon 5/ Counting Crows concert so they wouldn’t fall asleep and piss me off because geez, those tickets were not cheap. It totally worked and Drew was able to appreciate the bass, Finn marveled at the drum set-up, and Porter commented on everything and asked a thousand questions.
Anyway, I’ve purchased 21 waters to take to the class party. Bill says I’m a huge party pooper and I should wear a protective gear because the kids are likely to revolt. He says it’s a Halloween requirement that I ply them with a sugary soft drink or primary colored juice.
I can’t do it.
I told him they are lucky I didn’t buy V8.
Here’s a picture of the guys in last year’s costumes. Drew didn’t look quite as pimpy once he ditched his Mac Daddy hat.
That may have been Finn’s last year to dress up– he seems unsure about this year, but I have a huge box of costumes in the attic and can make him into anything from a biker to a dancing girl in moments.
Yesterday I came home to find Porter skating in the driveway. He was wearing the tattoo sleeve, the mac daddy jacket, a necklace with a large peace sign dangling from it, and pants. He told me he was going as “a peaceful tattooed roller-blading guy who’s voting for Obama.”
He has certainly come a long way from his previous political beliefs. That’s the beauty of childhood; you can change your mind on a whim without anyone saying you’ve compromised your principles.