“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”
- Groucho Marx
Is it a sign of the times that we had two trick-or-treaters this year? Two. Normally we have upward of thirty.
Well, I wouldn’t have missed the two for anything. Little C and her younger (but not littler) sister, S, came to call, Snow White and a sturdy ballerina whose pink beret was down around her eyes. When they arrived at the door, C told me “Trick or treat” and handed me a little bag of potato chips from her fuzzy pumpkin bag. Following her sister’s lead, S started emptying her pumpkin bag, handing me all sorts of treats. Soon we were all passing little bags of chips and mini chocolate bars around, and eventually everything made its way back into the fuzzy pumpkin bags. It was a real Marx Brothers moment.
I hadn’t figured a red-headed two-year-old would look so fetching in a shiny black wig, but C really carried it off. S was a ballerina to reckon with, stomping around in her pink tutu like a small trucker. The overall effect was mesmerising; a real treat.