A Refusal

Call me a party pooper. Call me a spoil sport. But you'll see no pictures of my kids at Halloween. I didn't take many. Son #1 was not happy that day, and son #2 has decided that a smile is some weird facial expression involving the lips getting sucked in and the eyes bugging out and the cheeks flapping over.

But beyond the photographic trials of the day, I've decided to put the kibosh on Halloween next year. I don't like where it's going. Too many Halloween socials where there are 7-year olds dressed as axe murderers with vivid fake blood oozing out of everywhere; too many skulls and zombies; too much horror.

And when my 7-year old dressed like a clown gets shown the most disparaging disdain from a third-grade girl dressed like a hooker, then enough is enough. No more Halloween socials, because apparently, the parents of these kids have no sense.

Sure, we'll still carve jack o'lanterns. Sure, we'll still roast the pumpkin seeds. Sure, we'll still decorate the house in orange and black paper chains, candles, leaves and acorns. Sure, we'll even still go trick or treating in my neighborhood. But that's it.

Worst. Mama. Ever. Yeah, that's me.