I convinced Vicki to cut her class last night so we could take Samson trick-or-treating with his friends Jake and O, the giraffe and frog, respectively. Our little plush menagerie hit all of three houses before the boys collectively gave up, but I think given the circumstances (time change, strangers in their faces, not being able to eat what they got), we did just fine.
Poor Samson is probably glad to see Halloween come and go; he's worn that lion costume more than he's worn some of his pajamas at this point.
And the fact that he hated wearing the lion headpiece might actually be a blessing in disguise. His feline headgear antipathy might just save us a voice mail like this in the future: "Hi Mom and Dad. Just wanted to call with some good news: I've gotten the lead in a dinner theater revival of Cats! I'm Rum-Tum-Tugger. Isn't that fantastic? I'll send you guys comp tickets once we're out of rehearsal. Also, when you come you should try the prime rib --- it's very good."
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