This is is Part One of my Grey Halloween Story. Hope you enjoy! xo
"That's not the Beast, that's Chewbacca!" I say to Taylor, who's holding up the mammoth wooly Halloween costume in front of my desk at my office. Costume is putting it lightly. That's like saying Big Foot is fun sized like those candies the kids will get trick-or-treating tonight. I can barely see Taylor past the ratted tufts of what's supposed to be fur but looks more like shreds of old rug a dog went to town on. How the fuck can I walk the neighborhood in that thing? "I specifically ordered Beauty and the Beast costumes for tonight, not Star Wars!
"This is what they sent over."
"That's not an acceptable answer."
I buzz Andrea out front.
"Yes, Mr. Grey?" Andrea doesn't hesitate to answer. I like that in employees; I have a zero hesitation clause. Especially in response to my buzzing.
"Andrea, get me the costumer on the line."
"What customer?"
"Cos-tu-mer!" I say louder and with syllabic definition. "The Halloween guy." He came with the highest recommendations and referrals. Supposedly the mayor uses him, although I've never seen the mayor dress up as anything other than an asshole in public. Perhaps he does more private engagements. I didn't delve further.
"Right away, Mr. Grey."
I hang up and turn back to Taylor.
"They're similar, sir," Taylor says, looking the thing straight in the jaw. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was attacking him.
"They're not similar! The beast is much better looking and he has classical training."
"Maybe he just appears different in person, sir."
"I've watched that movie with Phoebe 127 times! I know my beast!" Phoebe requested that Ana and I go as these characters. I don't want to disappoint her.
"That was a cartoon. Real life is different, sir." Thank you, Taylor for that life lesson. Why the fuck does he sound like Flynn?
"He has no clothes! I can't go around the neighborhood asking for candy as a naked Beast!"
"I don't remember what he wears."
"It's famous! That blue tuxedo jacket with the tails that he waltzes around with Belle in."
"Does he wear pants?"
"Of course he does. It's a Disney movie."
"Donald Duck doesn't wear pants."
"What the fuck is your point?"
"Animals don't always wear pants in these things."
"Well I'm sure as hell going to wear pants!" He nods profusely in agreement. "Besides, he's not an animal, he's a man caged in a beast's body who just needs the love of a good woman to set him free before all the petals on his flower fall off."
"It is a lovely story, sir."
"I told you I saw it 127 times." And I lived it once upon a time.
"I'll find the correct clothes."
"Don't bother. It won't matter."
"Why's that, sir?"
"Because it's not the Beast, it's Chewbacca!" I grab the costume and shake it for dramatic effect.
Andrea buzzes me and I answer.
"Yes?"
"Gunther Imperial is on line one."
"Who the hell is Gunther Imperial?" It sounds like a Swedish superhero who strips for side cash.
"Your costumer."
"That's no customer of mine!"
"Cos-tu-mer!" Of course.
I click over to line one.
"Is the groin too tight?" Gunther asks before I can get a word out. He sounds like he just sucked a balloon.
"What did you just ask me?"
"It felt snug when I was making it, but I didn't want it to sag. If it's too tight just pull at the crotch a few times fast to release some pressure." What the fuck is this conversation I'm having?
"I haven't tried it on yet."
"Why not?"
"Because, it's a wookie!"
"A what-ie?"
"A wookie. The wookie. From Star Wars!"
"Correct."
"What do you mean, 'correct'?"
"You requested Chewbacca and Belle."
"No, I fucking did not!"
"But, it's written down."
"Let me ask you something, Gunner..."
"Gunther."
"Do I sound like I care?"
"No, but it's still Gunther." Little shit.
"Why the fuck would I choose Chewbacca and Belle costumes to go together?"
"I don't judge love."
"Well, I judge brains and you have none. Get me the Beast!"
"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm all tapped out because it's Halloween. But, I can get you a free Santa Claus for three days before Christmas. I'm all tapped out on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, too. So, you'll have to return it fast." He's all tapped out in a lot of areas of his life.
"Don't bother. I'm already going as the Grinch who's going to steal the fuck out of your Christmas via lawsuit."
I hang up. "Fuck."
"What does the lawsuit entail, sir?" Taylor asks.
"I don't know yet. I'll have Welch find something on him." I turn to Taylor. "Are the other costumes ready?"
"Affirmative. They were dropped less than an hour ago. Phoebe's Princess Elsa, Teddy's Nemo, Mrs. Grey's Belle... Why does he sound like he's talking about a missile launch? Why do I feel like it is one?
"Who would have thought when you first started working for me that I'd have a regular Disney family?
"Of all the thoughts that crossed my mind, Mr. Grey, that's not one." He smiles.
"Now, let's talk business. Do you have the map?"
"Yes, sir." He pulls out the map of our neighborhood at large from his pocket and spreads it out on my desk. "The houses outlined in green passed background checks."
"What are the yellow ones?"
"Pending."
"Fuck 'em. If they can't pass immediately, I can't trust their candy." I survey the properties drawn out. Hoffsteader is a yellow... I always knew he was a shady bastard. "And we can't just take a passed background check at face value."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"We need to keep our eyes and ears peeled and open at all times. Just because you pass a background check doesn't mean you aren't a psychopath behind closed doors."
"Yes, sir."
"There's always a first offense and this is the night that brings it out of them."
"Will be on high alert, Mr. Grey."
"Now, I figure this will be our route." I pull out my red sharpie pen from the the holder on my desk and start to draw our path. "We'll start out at 5:54 pm at the the Derwins. They're idiots, but harmless and they give large handfuls if you come early. Allow a little extra time for Grandma to admire the kid's outfits." I swear, it takes that woman twenty minutes just to lift her glasses that hang on that chain around her neck from her breasts to her face. "Then we make our way south across their lawn until we end up at the Mortimers. They're cagey, so keep an eye on their hands. I think they steal when they act like they're putting in."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"One candy in the bag, five out." Last year I caught a lone Snickers in their generic brand candy mix. Where the hell did that come from? Oh, I know. Joe Mortimer is a cheap son of a bitch. He's the kind of guy who celebrates Christmas a week late so he can grab a free tree off the street. "We just need to make sure he doesn't spend too long in anyone's sack." I hear his wife says the same thing.
"What about the Reardons?" Taylor asks. Oh god, not them. Their name is fitting since they're the biggest assholes of Halloween.
"They only give toothbrushes and percentage off cards for their orthodontics side business." Dr. Reardon uses Halloween as an excuse to proselytize about the evils of sugar to the entire community and rack up patients in the process.
"But, he's the children's dentist."
"We'll wave and make an appointment." I mark his house out with a big X. "We should be through the neighborhood in an hour."
"It's quite a large area, sir. I'm not sure we can hit all these houses...," he points to the distance between lots. "In an hour."
"Don't be a Negative Nancy."
"And you're only allowing for twenty minutes at the nursery school party."
"That's all we'll need." Christ, if I have to be around all those horny hippie mothers in a naked Chewbacca outfit longer than that, I may not survive. Thank God Ana will be by my side. I couldn't do this night without her.
"But, Mr. Grey-"
"Trust me Taylor, the plan is solid. Aside from this Chewbacca mess, Halloween is going to run like clockwork."
########
"Ana!" I say, making my way through the front door. "I'm home."
Out of nowhere something flies at me, nearly taking me out at the ankles and knocking me off my feet. It takes me a moment or two to realize it's my six year old son driving his mini Audi SUV like a bat escaping hell through the foyer.
"Teddy, what are you doing?" I ask, following his fender into the great room as he does laps around the furniture.
"Picking up trash," he says, like it's an everyday occurrence. Which, unfortunately it is not. Pressing the brakes, he picks up my copy of Time off the coffee table and throws it in the backseat of his vehicle.
"That's my magazine! Why would you throw that away?"
"Mommy says it's all the same old junk in these things." He's right.
"Yes, but Daddy wants to read the junk first." I kneel and reach into his open back seat window and pull it out, returning it to where he found it, only this time it's got a wet sucker attached to the cover where Putin's left eye is supposed to be. He's got a mess of stuff in there: newspapers, empty juice boxes, a half eaten donut whose powdered remnants are suspiciously all over his face. If I didn't know any better I'd think he was auditioning for that show on hoarders. "What is all this?"
"I told you, Daddy. The trash."
"Well first rule as a Grey man, keep the trash out of your Audi. Second, keep the Audi in the garage. And third, why are you picking up the trash in your Audi?"
"That's not a rule, it's a question." God, he's so much like his mother.
"You're right. And I make the rules, so answer it."
Before he can, I hear Phoebe squeal as she runs down the hall dressed in her Princess Elsa getup, sans shoes.
"Teddy stealed Chester's slippers," she says, pointing a finger at the culprit in the Audi. Chester, her hamster. The one who seeks my blood. She's holding the little fucker who's dressed in a purple velour bathrobe with some sort of matching hat that looks like a turban.
"Chester has slippers?" I ask. She nods, sniffling tears.
"They're white and fuzzy and go with his costume."
"What's he dressed as?"
"A movie star."
"In a bathrobe?"
She nods. "He's waiting in his dresser's room with his name on door to be filmed to be famous. But, he can't walk to the cameras on the outside 'cause his foots is naked and he would maybe get sick or cut his toes on rocks." I think I made out four words of that.
"Did you do this?" I ask Teddy, pointing to the rodent reincarnation of Lawrence Olivier's naked feet.
"Uh huh," he nods. Didn't even try to deny it. Points for that.
"Why?"
"They looked like something to throw away." Fair enough.
"Why are you throwing away everything?"
"'Cause I'm the trash man and it's my job tonight, 'cause it's my costume."
"What about Nemo?"
"I don't want to be a fishy." He crosses his arms, sticks out his lips and pouts, ironically giving a first class fishy face. "I want to throw out the trash."
"Tell you what, you can clean out the garage tomorrow, tonight you're a fish!"
"Daddy find Chester's slippers! His foots is cold," Phoebe cries. Chester flashes his little teeth at me in threat. What am I, his Hollywood assistant?
I open the back door, reaching through the mess. By the grace of God I find one stuck in the seatbelt. The next is more difficult to track. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack. It's worse than the lost Barbie shoe fiasco last Christmas that had me on hands and knees for an hour searching through a sea of wrapping paper, under pine branches and between rug threads only to discover it never left the box.
"I found it!" I holler, feeling like I struck gold as I pull a fuzz ball from a half empty jelly jar. It's grape, so it'll match the robe. "He's got both slippers now. Tell him to walk to work." I hand it to her and she frowns.
"He's got four foots, Daddy." Oh right. I reach back in.
"You aren't going as a trash man, Teddy. No Grey picks up trash," I say as I dig through the rubbish. I find one more! "And no trash man drives an Audi."
"Is it bad to be a trashy person, Daddy?"
"Yes, on all counts." I find the last slipper. "Here it is!" I show it to Phoebe.
"Thank you, Daddy!" Phoebe says, jumping up and down as I give it to her. She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek, moving Chester closer to my neck where I can feel his twitching nose sniffing my flesh in preparation for attack.
I lean back from the little monster. "Maybe if Chester gets really famous he can go to Hollywood to live forever."
"You're silly, Daddy!" Phoebe giggles, just like her mother, which delights me.
"Why can't I be a trash man?" Teddy's now crying. Why is he still on this? Maybe I should tell him he can't clean up his room next time, he'll be begging to do it.
"Why do you want to be a garbage collector so bad?"
He stops his crying, looks at me and in all seriousness says, "Cause then I don't got to take a bath. A trash man's job is to wear dirt."
"Teddy, did you take my oven mitts?" Gail asks, approaching from the kitchen. Thank the Lord, I need help out here. "Oh, Mr. Grey, I didn't know you were home yet."
"I think your mitts are in his back seat." I pull them out and hand them to her, then look to Teddy. "Take your car back to the garage."
He starts it up begrudgingly and motors off for the yard.
"Where's Ana?" I ask Gail.
"In the master suite. She was trying on her costume for tonight." She's alone in our bedroom trying on her costume... My cock twitches. If it could somersault it would.
"I'm going to check on her, Gail." Maybe I'll catch her before the ball gown is on. She's been teasing me with the lingerie she's chosen to wear underneath. She said she'd show me before we left so it will drive me insane all night knowing what's under her dress for me to rip off of her when we get home. I've been fantasizing about that yellow hoop skirt over my head for days. "Will you watch the kids? I'm going to help Mrs. Grey with her costume."
"Yes, sir," she says, smiling as she catches my drift and takes Phoebe's hand. "Come along, we'll frost the cupcakes for tonight."
I make my way up the stairs. I have a cupcake of my own to frost.
#######
"Ana?" I call out, stepping inside our bedroom. I don't see her, but I know she's here. There's soft music playing and the scent of her perfume is still fresh. I inhale the floral aroma touched with vanilla as I walk to her closet. I see the clothes she wore this morning laid out on the chaise lounge in her dressing room and the empty costume bag hanging on her closet door. There's also an empty La Perla lingerie bag on the floor. She's in character. I smile with wicked intent and call for her again. Beast needs his Belle.
"I'm in here, Christian," she calls back to me from the bathroom, her voice heralding me like a siren. Only she has the power to give me an erection by just saying my name.
I turn the corner and stop suddenly, my breath taken from me as I see her through the parted bathroom door. She's a princess, my princess, standing there in her yellow ball gown, the sleeves capped at her shoulders and the satin cupping her breasts in just the right way. Gunther Imperial did something right when he made that dress. And so did God when he made her.
"You are so beautiful," I say, moving to her in awe that such an angel and a naughty minx can be wrapped up in one girl and that that girl is mine. I reach around her waist and pull her into my arms, my mouth finding place of worship on her neck. She moans. "You are so sweet."
"Christian," she says hoarse and breathy as I taste my way to her ear.
"I need to fuck you," I whisper, nibbling her lobe.
She turns in my arms, her ringlets spilling onto her shoulders as she gazes into my eyes. Her chest heaving and a flush painted across the apples of her cheeks.
"I need..." she breathes. "I need..."
"Tell me what you need baby..." I move my hand down her chest and across the satin covering her nipple, brushing the hardening peak with my thumb.
"I need to vomit." Still in my arms, she bends over the toilet that's next to us and hurls.
"Ana!" Without hesitation, I hold her hair as she falls to her knees and continues to empty the contents of her stomach, which doesn't appear to be the first drop, into the ceramic bowl. I'm having flashbacks of that first night at that bar in the flower bed. But, this time it's not alcohol I'm seeing, it's a lot of rice. Finally she stops her heaving. I help her to her feet where she stands quiet for a moment, holding her stomach as if to settle it. I take a monogrammed hand towel and wipe her mouth with it. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I had sushi for lunch," she grimaces. That explains the rice.
"Where?"
"The farmer's market." Unsteady, she loses her balance and I move in quickly to hold her up.
"Oh Ana, why would you do that? You know how I feel about you eating raw, mercury laden seafood from unregulated open air facilities." I've told her a thousand times, but she never listens. I flush the toilet to de-vomitize the smell of the room.
"Kate took me to lunch. It must've been bad, because ever since I ate that spicy tuna roll I've been sick as a dog." Of course, Kavanagh. She and bad tuna go hand in hand.
"Why didn't you call and tell me?"
"That I was going to sushi with Kate?"
"That you were sick." Although, if she would've told me beforehand of her plans I would've steered her toward sandwiches in her office alone with a FaceTime call and she'd be fine now.
"I didn't want you to overreact."
"I wouldn't have overreacted! I would've stopped everything, come home and rushed you to the hospital."
"Exactly."
"That's not overreacting, that's taking care of my wife. You have no regard for your own well being." I swear she could be run over by car, bleeding her guts out in the road and she'd say all she needed was a band aid and a ride back to work.
"I'm feeling much better already."
"Good. Get out of this dress, I'm taking you to bed." I turn her around and start to unlace the back.
"But, not quite better enough for that."
"No, not that." What kind of beast, no pun intended, does she think I am? "I'm putting you to bed to rest." I peel the satin off her shoulders and the skirt drops to the floor, revealing the lingerie meant to drive me wild underneath- white lace corset, pink ribbons, blush garters with matching silk thigh highs and no panties. Fuck, she's killing me with the no panties. Her breasts look so full in this ensemble, I have to bite my tongue so I won't use it on them as I undress her and replace heaven-on-earth with my Harvard rowing tee.
"But, it's Halloween," she says, as I pick her up and carry her to our bed.
"You're not going anywhere feeling the way you do." I fluff her pillows- Ana's a two fluff, one pat kind of girl- and tuck her in.
"I'll be okay. It comes and it goes."
"Well, I don't want for you to come and for it to go all over one of our idiot neighbor's lawns." I stroke her hair. "You need to take care of yourself. I have half a mind to get a doctor over here right now."
"No, it's just a little food poisoning."
"Just like they thought the Titanic was just a little crash into a little iceberg. Or World War II was just a little war or polio was just a little crippling..."
"But, Christian-"
"No, 'buts'. You're staying home, in bed."
"Then you have to do it without me."
"Do what without you?"
"Trick-or-treating with the kids."
"Ana, I won't leave you."
"But, they've been looking forward to this for weeks." She's right, they have. So have I...
"But, Ana-"
"You don't want to disappoint them," she gives me those doe eyes as she says the magic words. Neither of us wants to disappoint them. Ever.
I sigh, putting a finger to her lips that she gently kisses.
"Okay."
"You'll go?"
"Yes, under one condition. You take care of yourself and I'll take care of Halloween."
"Deal." She smiles, then the happy turns to funny and not funny ha-ha. "Now, I need to take care of myself over the toilet." She flies out of bed and darts to the bathroom and I follow behind as her ever loyal hair holder.
Fuck. This night isn't shaping up to what I thought.
#######
"What's wrong with Ana?" Grace asks from the other end of my cell. I'm talking to her in the den while Taylor helps me step into my costume.
"Food poisoning from some sushi joint that I'm going to have the health department shut down." I look to Taylor who's trying to fit my toes into the limited foot space inside the paws. "Just shove it in!" I whisper shout to him.
"I can't." As he pushes, my toes tangle on the matted hair.
"Why is there so much fur down there?"
"I'm not sure."
"Can you cut it off?"
"It'll damage the costume."
"I don't have time for nonsense. I need to get it in!" I kick my foot forward and force it inside, ripping some material in the process.
"Don't try anything with Ana if she's sick," my mother says, sounding alarmed.
"What?" Oh, she's heard bits of the conversation. Does she think so poor of me? "I'm not talking to Ana, I'm talking to Taylor."
The line falls silent.
"He's dressing me."
Still silent.
"We're putting on my costume. I have to take the kids trick-or-treating alone tonight."
"Be sure to wear comfortable shoes!" Comfortable shoes? There's not even room for my toes, let alone sneakers.
"Sir, could you turn to the left a bit?" Taylor asks, as we both work to shimmy the thing over my ass. I turn, but it's not helping. Gunther wasn't kidding when he said the crotch was tight.
"Would you check in on Ana tonight, Mom? I hate leaving her here like this."
"Of course, I'll be by in an hour or so. I'm sure she's fine. Have fun with my babies!"
"Try squeezing your rear to narrow it," Taylor says. I clench my cheeks, but it's slow going.
"Yes, Mom. We'll have fun." As soon as I can get this damn thing ahead of my behind. "And call me if anything happens with Ana."
"I will. Elliot and Kate are taking Ava to the nursery school party." Oh great, Kavanagh. I'll give her an earful about Ana and sushi-gate.
"Wonderful."
"Elliot says he wants to surprise you with his costume." What the fuck? The last time he surprised me with a costume I was ten and dressed as a banker. He dressed as an outlaw, robbed me of the candy in my banker bucket and shot silly string at my face. Fucker. I'm still not over that.
"I'm on the edge of my seat." Maybe he and Kavanagh are coming as a porno version of Tweedle Dee and Dum. They wouldn't need costumes.
"I love you, son!"
"You, too, Mom."
I hang up. Taylor's still working on my ass.
"Jesus, Taylor. Why is the crotch so small?"
"It happens," he sighs. For a moment I don't think we're talking about costumes. I don't want to fucking know. "I'm going to give it one hard pull, Mr. Grey."
"Okay, I'm ready." I think. I grab onto the desk edge, holding my teeth and my ass in a simultaneous clench.
On the count of three, he yanks the thing up with military force, squeezing my balls in the process. It's a good thing we've already had our children, I think all my soldiers were killed in this battle.
"Fuck! Careful with the merchandise!"
"I think you're all in, Mr. Grey."
"At what cost?"
He holds up the paws. "Put your arms in the sleeves, sir."
I do and he zips it up from the back.
"This thing is 120 degrees inside!" I say, as sweat begins to drip beneath my fur.
"Wait." He moves to the sofa and digs through a bag that's sitting there. "I have your clothes, sir." More layers? Fuck. Maybe the Beast should go naked.
He pulls out a blue velvet jacket with gold buttons and Victorian tails, and a pair of some sort of stretchy black leggings.
"Are those tights?" I ask, pointing to the things. It looks like he took them straight out of Phoebe's closet.
"They're riding pants, sir. Equestrian."
"Like horses?"
He nods.
"The Beast doesn't ride."
"It's all they had left."
I begrudgingly put on the pants. They're so fucking small, I wonder if I'd be better off with Phoebe's tights. After several minutes of pulling and stretching, I finally adhere them to my wookie form and look in the mirror.
"I can't wear these!" My legs are like pencils, my ass looks huge and my ankles have enough hair on them to cover all the bald heads at an old folks' home.
"Try the coat on. It completes the outfit, sir." He helps me with the jacket. It's too small across the shoulders and too short in the sleeves. I look back in the mirror at the fucked up horrible mess I am. I've been planning since September. How did I get Halloween so wrong?"
"You're right, it completes it," I say, looking at my tragic reflection. "I'm now officially the George Washington of the Neanderthals."
"It's old English. The coat is parliamentary." Now, I see why we revolted. Anyone who makes laws in this thing should be shot.
"Where's my shirt?" I ask, looking at my bare wookie chest sticking out from my lapels.
"There was no shirt available, Mr. Grey."
"All I am is chest hair." And a lot of it. It's the kind of chest hair that attracts gold chains. The moms are going to attack me!
"Should I shop elsewhere for a shirt?" he asks.
I look at the clock. 5:44 pm! We have to hit the first house in ten minutes!
"Fuck it. We have to get out there. Get the SUV ready."
"Right away, Mr. Grey."
He exits and I follow behind in my Parliamentary Chewbacca Beast who owns a seventies disco costume. Oh what a night.
########
"Ahhhhhhhh!" Phoebe screams as I step into the kitchen where she, Teddy and Mrs. Taylor are readying the cupcakes for the school party.
"Phoebe, sweetie, it's me." I take off the mask. Sweat swimming down my face.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" she screams again. "Daddy got eaten by a monster!"
"No, honey. I'm the Beast!" But, even I don't feel conviction in my claim.
"That's not Beast!" she squeals. Chester flashes his teeth, preparing to defend her from the hairy footed imposter that is her sweat dripping father.
"That's Chewy!" Teddy says, like he's discovered gold, or rather his new obsession- trash. "Why is Chewy wearing tights?"
"I don't know, son. I don't know." I look at his outfit. He's wearing dirty overalls, a painter's cap and carrying an empty trash bag.
"Why do you have an empty trash bag?"
"To collect the candies in." My son is collecting treats in a garbage sack. I'll never live it down.
"Where's Mommy?" Phoebe asks.
"I have something to tell you kids. Mommy is sick."
"Is Mommy going to die?" Phoebe cries out. She's so over dramatic. She gets it from her father.
"No, she's not going to die. Mommy just ate some bad sushi." First world problems, I know.
"See, fish is bad, Dad," Teddy proclaims, still holding firm to his anti Nemo stance.
"I want Mommy!" Phoebe cries, stomping her red soled princess kitten heels.
"She's going to be fine. She just needs to rest tonight."
"Who's gonna be Belle?" Phoebe asks.
"Mommy's still Belle. She's just not an active one."
"Should I collect her candy for her?" Phoebe sniffles.
"That's a wonderful idea."
"Should I ask for soup?" Teddy asks.
"Ask who for soup?"
"The houses."
"Why would you do that?"
"Mommy always makes me eat soup with chicken juice when I'm sick."
"Where would you put soup?"
He scratches his head. "Tupperware."
"No chicken juice. Just candy."
"I'll make her soup if she wants it, Teddy," Gail says.
I look at the clock on the microwave. We're already a minute behind schedule. Grandma Derwin is going to have to lift those glasses off her breasts in record time.
"If we're going to get any candy at all, we better get a move on."
"I'm gonna get way more candy than you, Phoebe!" Teddy says. "I'm gonna fill the whole garbage sack!"
"No you're not!"
"Yes, I am!"
Phoebe punches Teddy in the arm.
"Ow!"
"Phoebe!" I yell. "Apologize to your brother!"
"Sorry I'm gonna get more candy."
Jesus, this is going to be a long night.
I planned on the perfect Disney family this Halloween. Instead I have a trash boy, a princess with a glorified rat in a bathrobe, a hodgepodge beast and a missing Belle. I rush the kids out the door, praying I'll survive this evening. But, I'm fearful. The night has only just begun...
To be continued on Halloween...