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The Irony of Halloween

Isn’t life ironic? My mom didn’t really like Halloween. So every year the night of trick-or-treating came upon us a little too quickly, and we scrambled for costumes. We rushed up to my Nana’s house and borrowed colorful scarves, bright makeup, and clunky jewelry. In other words, I was a gypsy for at least five years running. Okay. I liked the makeup.

Don’t get me wrong here. My mom is an awesome mom. She coached pee-wee softball, was always room-mom at school, and worked her butt off (along with my dad) raising three girls. But hey, the woman just didn’t like Halloween. I think my sisters were usually anything with a wig and/or ghosts.

I love Halloween. When my kids were tiny, they still wore costumes. Blues from Blues Clues. Buzz Lightyear. Wonder Woman. New costumes every year—I went all out.

My son hit the point this year that he just isn’t into it. He may go as a football player. Of course, he wears his football jersey every Friday to school, so it’s not like a real costume. I was holding out hope that my ten year old daughter would still want to dress up. And she does! Guest what as? YEP. You got it. A GYPSY!

Are you kidding me?!? I tried to talk her out of it. We looked at costumes on the internet. It finally came down to: a gypsy costume.

So, we headed up to my mom’s house, and the woman laughed her head off as she searched through drawers for colorful scarves and chunky jewelry. The Halloween spirits must be giggling right along with her.

Everyone have a safe and fun Halloween! Also, a quick note here that CLAIMED was released into the wild (aka bookstores) yesterday and I’m running a contest for one person to win the first ARC of HUNTED. Go here for the contest.

What was either your favorite or your least favorite Halloween costume?

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