Princess

I know what you're wondering; what does a chic four-year old wear for a night out trick or treating?

A princess dress with a hoop skirt and two pairs of sweat pants. Granted, the two pairs of sweat pants do not technically fall within the accepted Princess Biona, wardrobe. (After the Fire truck incident of last year, switching the B for an F was a relief. (To relive that Halloween, check out the Fire Truck article.)) My daughter did her best to explain to the evil non-step mother that "Princess don't wear pants." While the argument was cogent and accurate and convinced me, it had no effect on my wife.

You may be thinking this was a one time blatant disregard of logic. But my daughter has a history of Halloween persecution and disappointment. Even though she was healthy and active when she was born, my wife, and the entire medical establishment conspired to ruin her first Halloween. They hid behind the feeble excuse that she was only a day old. Luckily, her brother had her best interests in mind. He made a point to tell each house we visited, "I'm trick or treating for my sister too." He wisely left off, "give me more candy."

So, her first Halloween was ruined. Her next chance came, strangely enough, a year after she was born. This year, there was no logical reason for her mother to ruin another Day of Candy. Her brother was going as Spiderman and she picked Clifford. Well, her mother picked Clifford, mainly because it was the costume her brother wore the year before. It was at least three sizes too big and allowed a snowsuit, boots, hat and mittens to fit under the costume.

Aside from having her costume perverted into a round cherry instead of a popular product line, you might be wondering how her mother ruined this Halloween? The Clifford costume was a hand-me-down. While it didn't ruin her Halloween right then, I'm sure when she's old enough to read this, it will retroactively. I know this because of tennis shoes. This summer, she'd grown out of her sneakers, so I grabbed an old pair of her brother's and told her they might fit. "No! Too big!" she jerked her feet away and wouldn't let me see if they fit. Instead of forcing the issue, I tried another pair of his old shoes that were the exact same size and this time, announced that they were brand new, never been worn... EVER. This pair fit perfectly. I barely stopped her brother when he started to say, "Hey, those are my old-"

If you're counting, that's two Halloweens ruined. Last year, her brother was sick so she had to go up to complete stranger's houses with just her mother. Everyone knows that the last thing a three-year wants is her mother ringing doorbells for trick or treat. She also only got half the candy that was due her. She and her brother switch candy cause each has different allergies. It works out so they each get a full compliment a sugar.

So we came to this Halloween. It started off rough with the extra sweat pants under the princess dress. I noticed that is had a definite negative impact on her twirling. But she and her brother (dressed as Bumblebee, not the insect as my parents thought, but the Transformer) bravely faced the elements. As we walked up the long driveway, I checked to make sure they were both ready.

"What do you say when you knock on the door?"

"Trick or treat!" my son yelled out.

I looked at my daughter, "What do you say?"

"tk r trt," she whispered.

When it comes to strangers, my daughter has a tendency to cling to the back of my leg so tight I think she is trying to pull herself through the material. I was positive I was going to get the pleasure of walking up to each door and holding out her treat bag while she hid behind me.

For the first two houses, that's what happened. Her brother raced ahead, knocked and the candy was being handed out by the time we got to the door. A quiet "thank you" came from behind my leg and we went off to the next house.

By the fifth house, she was right beside her brother, her basket out, a millisecond behind in "Trick or treat!" Since her brother was running ahead, then back to the group of adults following at a slower pace then ahead and back, he wore down and soon his sister was reaching the doors first.

She'd studied how her brother did it and was an instant pro. She couldn't hold her basket and reach the doorbell. So, she'd carefully place it on the doorstep, stand on her tip toes and ring the doorbell. Then she'd pick up her basket, hold it old and yell, "Trick or treat!'

The problem was, not every house had someone stationed at the door to open it immediately. After her proclamation of "Trick or treat!" she'd look up expectantly and usually see a closed door. That's when she repeated putting her basket down, ringing the doorbell, pick up her basket and "Trick or treat." After the fourth ring, she'd look at me and heave a disgusted sigh at how slow some people were.

We made it through half of the neighborhood before they decided they'd had enough. (We even found the house that was handing out treats for the adults. Reeses's cups and beer actually aren't as bad as you'd think. I know which house we're starting with next year.) So, my daughter perched on my shoulders, her hoop skirt threatening to block my vision every few steps, we all returned from a successful trick or treat expedition.

My princess ended the trip asleep on my shoulders. Next trick or treat, I'll remember to take the sucker away before she falls asleep. That patch of hair should grow back in a few months. In the meantime, it's winter so a hat won't look out of place...