Momsie: Is he here yet? I need some more coffee.

My assistant: Nope. Here. I’ll get you some. Cream and sugar, right?

Momsie: Everyone already knows this post is totally full of poopies. I will never have an assistant. Also, “poopies” was not my first word that came to mind.

My totally imaginary assistant that is really just a character put there to move the plot along: OH MY GOODNESS HE’S HERE. HE’S TOTALLY HERE!

Momsie: *stands nervously, clears throat*

Michael Meyers, the scary dude, not the comedian, walks in and sits.

Momsie: *too loudly* HI! Thanks so much for coming! Cookie?

Michael nods, takes a cookie and waits.

Momsie: Ok. Thanks so much for coming – I really appreciate it and my readers do too, I’m sure. I set up this meeting because I have a few questions, and I’m hoping you can answer them.

Michael: …

Momsie: Um… yea. I forgot. Your thing is not talking, right?  Do you need some hot tea, perhaps? Does your voice actually sound like Danny Devito’s? Not that that would be a bad thing, but you know…


Momsie: *takes a breath. Folds hands and steeples fingers like she’s in charge and annoying.* Well. Ok. So, we’ll just go ahead and get started. I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here today.

Michael: …

Momsie: Yea. So… my family and I like to watch football in the fall, because we are good, red-blooded Americans. But since it is also October, we keep getting the freaky freaky scary as heck commercial for your fourteenth installment for your movie and EACH AND EVERY TIME IT COMES ON MY CHILDREN GET ALL FROZEN LIKE SWEET INNOCENT BABY ADORABLE RABBITS AND STARE AT YOU WITH TRUE HORROR AND CAN YOU JUST CUT IT OUT ALREADY.

Michael: …

Momsie: Granted, they are 8 and 10 now, and so I am sure they have seen some scary things, not to mention that one kid at Blonde’s school who took it upon himself to relate the entire plot of It to both of my children at recess, so now that whole balloon in the bathroom scene is a repeated discussion at teeth brushing time every night. Thanks so much, kid, for my children’s poor dental health and inability to wash their hands now without thinking the sink is going to kill them.


Momsie: So, last Sunday I was upstairs during the first quarter of our third football game of the day. I do occasionally slip away and put away laundry sometimes during all the sports because I am responsible and still try to maintain household chores while my children and husband sit around like total slobs. Anyhow. I am doing the laundry thing, and the Husband is downstairs with the kids, and I HEAR it. I HEAR your FREAKY PIANO music and I start towards the stairs, yelling, “Turn it OFF TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF I CAN HEAR THAT #@!! MUSIC THE CHILDREN! THE CHILLLLLLDRRENNNN!


Momsie: Yea. I do tend to make things a bit more intense than they need to be. Anyhoo. I’m lunging downstairs, kicking the cats out of the way, all focused on getting to the remote so I can make sure my sweet and preshus babes don’t have to see you because, let’s face it, you are one scary looking dude. And then I get downstairs, yelling all the time, “BRIAN SO HELP ME TURN IT OFF THEY WILL COME INTO THE BEDROOM TONIGHT AND STAND NEXT TO MY SIDE OF THE BED BECAUSE OF THIS COMMERCIAL. NOT YOUR SIDE OF THE BED. JUST MINE.”



Michael: …

Momsie. So. Sorry. Too many caps. My POINT is… do you think you could forego the ads during the football games? Maybe stick with shows that are more your territory, like Fox News or CNN or anything else terrifying. I just… I really need to be able to get a good night’s rest and you are freaking us all out.


Momsie: Ok. Well. I’m glad we talked. I feel better. I really do. Hey, while we’re at it, maybe we could also cover the whole scary mask thing? I am not a fan. My kids have a Halloween parade every year at their school and something about watching a five-year-old who just the other day was adorably lisping the alphabet walk by me carrying a bloody machete and wearing a zombie mask just doesn’t sit well. Maybe sometime you could ditch the mask? Or go for something a bit less gruesome?


Momsie: No? Ok. Never hurts to ask. Here, take a cookie on your way out.


Halloween is hard. I didn’t always feel this way. As a kid, I dressed up as a fairy princess and I hoarded Reeses’ and it was fine. But these days? It seems like life is kind of scary enough. So, we will trick or treat (we’ve done it from practically year one with them both; I’m not going to be able to turn that Titanic around). I won’t put a sign on the porch that says, “Jesus is SWEET enough!” I’ll buy the good candy (Reeses’, of course. Also, Kit Kats. And Blow Pops. Two candies in one.) and pass ’em out and say, “Oh my… how terrifying” to the five year old who shows up with the bloody machete. I’ll do it. But I’m not that thrilled anymore about Halloween. I used to love it. I really did. But now?

I’m kinda over it.




  1. I really don’t like Halloween. There’s a major bonus of having to drive 12 miles to town to trick-or-treat. If I’m going to drive 12 miles with five kids in car-impossible costumes, we may as well go see the old people neighbors and take them breakfast muffins. It’s way more in-and-out-of-the-car but also way more fun anyway. They love it, the neighbors love it, and I don’t come home with three* pounds of candy per child.

    *Not, sadly, an exaggeration. For parade season, add two pounds per child; always better to put them on a float so they can throw the candy instead.

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