The Princess and the Bee

Well, Lucy wasn't a princess after all. After much internal debate, she decided she doesn't want to be trapped in the castle and she doesn't need to be rescued by a blond, hairless prince. She also pointed out princesses don't eat candy -- not without purging anyway -- and she loves candy!

So she was Winnie-the-Pooh.


All right, fine! You don't believe me! The truth: Her princess dress was "scratchy." (Get used to it kid...) So, even though she DID want to be a beautiful princess (and I was FINE with that), she opted for the fuzzy bear for the sake of comfort. And she got heaps more attention than the 241 other girls who came to school today dressed as...beribboned victims of the patriarchy. In her class, there are four girls -- one was Snow White, one was Cinderella and the other was an angel. In the 4-year-old class, there are eight girls and every single one of them was a princess!

Anyway, I chaperoned the class on its trick-or-treating trip -- "Kyle! Back away from the candy bowl!" Repeat. "Ethan! Two pieces is enough!" There was one boy who cried every time we got in the elevator. (We were traversing a seven-story county government building.) And there was a girl who sobbed hysterically when we met a life-size Cat in the Hat. (Who could blame her?) Lucy and I held hands with Cinderella who complained as we left, "My basket isn't full yet!" All in all, it was great fun. Really!

Then, at night, we took Lucylu and the babies -- one cute little ladybug and one big fat bumblebee -- on a stroll through the new hood, while a devilish Auntie Pamela ably manned our door. I can't believe I bought 200 pieces of candy! This is not the old neighborhood, where we used to make desperate trips to the Giant at 9 p.m., hoping that nobody would egg our house (steal our car) when we ran out of 3 Musketeers. What the hell am I going to do with four dozen leftover Almond Joy? (Nobody ever wants to play that baby shower game with me...)



I am going to blame the dearth of tricksters on the too-many stairs to our front door. I am horrified to think that people are afraid of the RATS. You say, "No! That's crazy!" But I met one of our neighbors for the first time last night and she says to me, "You have a nice house!" And I say, "Yeah...but we do need to do some yardwork." And she says, "Well, you're going to have a devil of a time with those rats. Your yard is infested! One jumped out at me the other day and I almost peed my pants!" (The shame!! And THIS is why we don't have friends.)

Other thoughts on Halloween in Arlington:

It isn't enough to dress your 3-year-old in an awesome witch costume -- if you're a crazy Arlington parent, you can't resist the opportunity to make a *statement*. Your 3-year-old will wear a nametag that says, "I am a big witch! My name is Hillary Clinton." (And, I swear, I would hate this just as much if it was a zombie called W.)

When a boy in a gray hoodie rings your doorbell in D.C., you call him "a lazy teenager."
In Arlington, he tells you that he's a "terrorist."

In Arlington, parents do not take candy for themselves. In D.C., the mommas would say, "Oooh, I love those little bars! And baby, I need one, walking all over the city here..." (Here, I believe many of the women are dieting needlessly!)

And, finally, next year we're all going to be royalty.