Just wondering:

Is it wrong of me to want to be Margaret Cho's love slave?

A pain in the neck and an IQ of 3

So the village's annual Haloween parade last night went quite well (and by "quite well," I mean "adorable, rain-free and mercifully brief"). The parade itself last about ten minutes, because the kids walk about a block before turning around and returning to the high school, where the festivities begin and end. But there is a judging, and the percussion section of the marching band plays, which Nik loved as long as my hands were covering his ears. He wouldn't wear the hand-me-down dinosaur costume, so we put him in khaki pants and a green-striped shirt, handed him a stuffed Blue, and said he was going as Steve. Abbey was thrilled with her genie costume, but did not win a prize this year. She didn't seem too sad, what with the goody bags they gave everyone. (I mean, we're talking full-size 3 Musketeers bars here. Does anyone know a good come-down from a supernova-level sugar rush?)

Now, I'm supposed to be biased in favor of my daughter, but also present at the parade was the Best Halloween Costume EVER: some Wondermom had whipped up her 3-year-old an Oompa Loompa costume. From scratch. Right down to the striped shoes and the white overalls with the funky kneecap wing extensions and the orange skin and the ringlet flip at the bottom of her green-Manic-Panicked hair. Best of all, they had taken a big blue ball, stuck a doll's head at one end, feet at the other, and a wide red belt around the middle, and brought it along as a Violet Beauregard prop. I want that mom to adopt me.

The second overnight has been survived, despite yet another suicide call (much easier on this one, though, because the guy actually wanted 911; not my place to argue). I only managed to pull off three hours of sleep today, though, so wish me the best for tonight. I need to go hold down a pillow with my face now.