Hi, Mum.*

Thanks for loyally visiting every day - for months, as it happens - in the vain hope that I would have written something new.  Something, importantly, that got us off the topic of pee and on to more salient topics.  Like what, I'm not too sure, for as my good friend Nancy and I often observe, quite a bit of parenting actually revolves around the bodily functions of your children. Bugger the importance of teaching them Values and Morals and Ways to Be Good in the World. That all happens in the background. The important lessons are about teaching your children the art of blowing their noses. Or how to vomit into a handy receptacle rather than down your front. And yes, how to pee and pooh in a socially acceptable fashion. None of which, I must admit, I have managed to achieve since the last blog post. (The teaching of, that is.  I like to think that I, at least, have mastered the art of socially acceptable toilet use by now.)

Despite its obvious merit as a topic, today's post is not to be about bodily fluids. Instead, I am marking a now annual tradition of posting every November 1st. For the five years this blog has been going, this will be my third year in a row that I post on November 1st. I'm nothing if not consistent. Sort of.

And it is no coincidence why, since the birth of the Tiny one, that I post on this day. I have ready access to quite badly taken Halloween photos that must be shared with the world. Or with Mum, given that she is pretty much the only one left checking in.  Hi, Mum, again.

Tiny was clear from day one that he was going to be a ghost.

Check out the spooky camera effects that make him look like he was actually transparent.
I did that on purpose. Yes, I did.

Of course, I don't actually think he knew what a ghost looked like but he definitely knew how to say, "ooooooooohhhhh" in a very spooky way.

He also knew how to grab the candy and run. Here he is making a break with the Little Mermaid, trampling gardens in their rush to the next house.

Of course, despite not remembering that he had ever participated in Halloween before, he knew instinctively the age old, end-of-night ritual where you throw your loot onto the floor (and cast off your crocheted chains) --

-- and then sit amongst it. Nibbling.

I had to put the chains back on so that I could duly show off the genius
that is the cardboard padlock.

I am quite proud of this costume. Not bad for an afternoon's inspiration, if I say so myself. And until Tiny has very fixed ideas about what he's going to wear and where he will be getting it from (probably a shiny one, from the shops), I'm going to keep making them. Next year I'm going to angle for something that requires a box. One that you stick your head out of at the top and your arms out of at the sides. Perhaps a robot. Or a large ship.

Bit by bit, I am learning the ways of Halloween. It will never have the sheer excitement that a history of childhood trick-or-treating builds in you, but I am slowly getting into the groove. Maybe I'll get dressed up next year myself. I'm thinking I'll go as an Aussie. Yeah, mate. Bewdy bonza.

Anyway, Mum*, I'll try and keep the posts coming a little sprightlier. Like I said, I'm nothing if not consistent. Sort of.

*By "Mum" I mean my mother, of course, and anyone else left out there who might tune in occasionally in the hopes that I have posted something, anything, new. You are all bricks.