Halloween with Helpers

There's a lot involved with decorating.

This is especially true when your mother has a J-O-B and absolutely no interest in knick-knacks.

It's a good thing that my part of the village which is raising these children is filled with wonders.

Just ask Mr. 9.

Gramma Rose, who's nobody's grandmother by blood but everybody's grandmother by love, brought the Hawkeye's t-shirts when she visited last month.  I smiled just a little bit to myself; the machatunim tailgate at an Iowa game every year, having deep roots in the heartland, themselves.  All the pieces of my ever expanding family fit very nicely within one another. 

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Miss Texas thought she was pretty lucky, too.

My walker never looked better, nor did that spider hat on her head.

"Why does this have a bow on it?" she wondered

"Because it made me smile," was enough of an answer.... for both of us.

"What's a mallet?" she asked...

and I became Daddooooo, explaining tools to Little Cuter.

I sent her out with Mr. 7 to install the pumpkin.

The walker didn't make it over the stones, but the hat refused to be left behind.

 

 I had to remind them that we were supposed to be making my scarecrow.
There was so much more fun to be had, after all.

 Turns out that I was the one with newsprint up to my elbows, having stuffed the scarecrow myself.

Mr. 9 took care of the head, including a Happy Halloween message on the back, so I could see it as I drove down the driveway. 

Mr. 7's creation looks a little bit sad to me.....

After much deliberation, we installed him on the first rock, knife in neck.

Boys being boys, it didn't take long before he was an obstacle to be overcome.

"Watch MEEEEEE...."

I haven't heard that sound in a very very long time...

Big Cuter 1990 Sunset Beach

All that jumping led to a calamity for the 'crow... the headless 'crow...

 the 'crow who needed a kiss to make it all better.

 Then it was off on my not-as-smooth-as-JannyLou's driveway

 where, boys being boys, weaponry was involved.

 Mr. 7 wields Big Cuter's wooden sword from the Renaissance Festival.
Mr. 9, a more modern, high-tech kind of guy, opted for my aluminum hiking pole.

Miss Texas was content with Chica.

As with all (faux) grandmotherly events, this one ended in the best way possible.

Their mom came and took them home.