450: Carnage

If you had told me at any time that age 33, barely a week after giving birth to my first child, crotch still sore with stitches, bosom heavy with milk, that I would be trick-or-treating again like a kid, I would not have believed you. My sister-in-law and niece drove 11 hours up to the coast to see baby Walter and it happened to fall on Halloween, so I told my niece I'd take her trick-or-treating around the neighborhood. We waited till Walt had been fed and headed out, her dressed as Disney's Snow White, me dressed as Gravity Fall's Mabel. My niece insisted I was the one to ring the doorbells and be in front. Perhaps it was the badly knitted oversized sweater, or simply that the neighborhood doesn't get a lot of trick-or-treaters, but no one said "Hey you're an adult! What do you think you're doing?", in fact they generally just said "here, take more candy." It was a wonderful experience, something I thought I'd retired 10 years ago that I got to live once again. Talk about a treat!