Spooooky

It's a well-known and accepted fact among my family and close personal friends that I am a chicken sh*t. I abhore horror movies. I am pretty much as lame as you can get when it comes to "haunted" things - hayrides, houses, whatever. I bury my face in Mr. MOTH's arm and don't look up until we're out. Period. He teases me that I can't watch a movie unless it's by Disney and rated PG. He's right. However, I love all things fall and Halloween related as long as they don't fall under my definition of "scary" - which is pretty broad. I like mums and leaves; apple cider and hayrides; pumpkins and cornstalks. I DO NOT like skeletons, zombies, gargoyles, and (most especially) vampires. Like I said, I'm a chicken sh*t.

My idea of a perfectly acceptable Halloween decoration:
Because I am trying desperately not to make chicken sh*ts out of my kids, I have not tried to influence their choice of what an acceptable Halloween decoration is. However, I won't spend money on something if it's going to make me skeered. Therefore, Oldest Boy has been saving his chore money to buy what he considers an acceptable Halloween decoration: {SIGH} I surrender. I did draw the line at having it upstairs, though. Instead it lives on the downstairs hall closet and to make it more benign to me and to Youngest Boy (who, unfortunately, has inherited my temperament when it comes to these things) we named it Clifford B. Skeleton. Youngest Boy walks past and gingerly touches it and then reports back: Mommy!! It didn't move when I poked it! Whew!