My son and a group of his friends went trick-or-treating together last night in an affluent section of town where one of them lives. I was pretty amused that both he and that boy wore Hillary Clinton masks, bought separately and unaware of each other. And no, he wouldn't let me take his picture, the little stinker.
My son brought his athletic bag to hold his candy, and came home with it filled. The thing must weigh 10 pounds! I checked it out this morning, it was unbelievable. I've never seen such an assortment, nor have I ever seen so many full sized candy bars. The boy will never want to go trick-or-treating in the ghetto, again; although this should be his last year of trick-or-treating, anyway.
We were talking earlier today about what a good time he had. They covered about 3 miles of territory to get all that candy. Then he told me that some people had left a bowl of candy on the front porch, honor system style with a sign asking to please just take one.
"And did you all just take one?"
"Hell no, mom."
"But, J, that's cheating!"
I look at him, still in his pajamas - a WTFWJD shirt and Family Guy Stewie flannel pants. His eyes are puffy from sleep, and he looks like a big, huge version of my little boy. When I hug him, my head doesn't even come up to his shoulder. But that doesn't mean he's too big for me to try steer him in the right direction.
"J, what you did was wrong. What would Jesus do in that situation? I mean, really, look at the shirt you're wearing. What the fuck would Jesus do?"
"If he was in a group with his friends, he would probably have done what we did. Run to get as much candy as you can before anyone else got there."
"No, J. Jesus would have taken just one...
And then he would have performed a miracle so it would be enough to feed the whole crowd." As I was saying this, I was also using jazz hands.
He had to turn and leave the room.
16 hours ago