Wasn't Me

I went trick-or-treating with my 6 year old son and some of his friends on Saturday. He was a Kermit the frog. I was dressed as a slacker in a Vandals sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees. I took one of our dogs, lbd as well. Lbd was dressed as a witch. Really.

I have always felt that dogs wearing clothes is a warning sign that there is a demented person nearby. Dressing my dog was my wife’s idea. I didn’t like it, but I rolled with it because I like being married.

So yeah, we walked to the other kids houses to pick up the other kids. One of the other kids moms decided to come along too. Because, you know, you don’t just let your kids go walking around with a guy who has a dog in a dress.

We go to pick up the last kid in the party, a neighbor girl 2-3 years older than my son. She is wearing some kind of pink furry outfit with a skirt over the top. I think she said she was a Cheetah Girl. Whatever. My son, never short on words, lets loose with ‘oooooooooooooo, sexy costume!’

You know, in his outside voice.

Umm, yeah. The other kids mom is giving me the stink eye. ‘Where did he learn that’, she said.

Errrrrr, wow, the things kids pick up at school. I mean, he didn’t couldn’t have gotten it from me – I don’t talk like that. Right?

Is it possible that at 6 years old my son has already discovered the true meaning of Haloween?