A morning spent breakfasting on oatmeal and coffee in a sunny window with an old friend, screening Don Giovanni for a bunch of kids who didn�t know opera could be so funny and exciting, walking circumspectly around every statue thereafter. Did Casimir Pulaski just twitch?

Signs of Halloween are everywhere. On my walk to work this morning, I caught a passel of costumed kids holding hands while crossing the street, en route to the local private school. On my way home past the public elementary school, a band of preschoolers were tearing around the playground under the supervision of a tall witch clad in a back road and the most enormous, impressive witch hat I�ve ever seen. I half expected her to take off on the broom in her hand. On the train, a small boy, perhaps three, walked by in a Harley Davidson suit and asked his mother if he could please sit by the window (this was in stark contrast to the little girl dressed all in pink who got on at the next stop and whined to her mother, �But I want to sit by the window� in an �I-want-an-Oompa-Loompa-now voice). He didn�t see every passenger turn and smile at his back as he exited at his stop, holding his mother�s hand.

I slipped away early. It was probably not the best day to cancel office hours. Not only did the prodigal student return (with some wise plans to take the course pass/fail) but a student whose add form I signed the first week of class but who never appeared on my roster suddenly reappeared. May I note that the course is more than half over and she�s missed five assignments and a quiz? No matter, she thinks she can pull it off. If she can, more power to her.

Thanks to a Holy Grail cab with some Grand Theft Auto-worthy skills, I made a train two hours earlier than my usual and got home in time for the costume parade at AJ�s school. My husband and I walked up to the playground and stood with all the other parents, penned in by safety orange traffic cones marking the parade route. The aimless conversations (including one in which vegetarian Ned Flanders (aka The Girl Next Door�s father) addressed us as �nabes.� Or is it �neighbs?�) were extinguished mid-sentence when the preschool class made an appearance followed by the other kindergarten class. AJ�s class was next. AJ was looking quite serious in his skeleton costume until he caught sight of us and flashed and started waving. After he passed us he was strutting, marching, skipping � never plain walking. After the parade we headed for AJ�s classroom for his class party. We were expecting hyperactive kids fueled by excitement and sugar. Instead, we found them working hard. AJ was busy decorating a treat bag and hardly acknowledged our appearance. This was the first time I�d been in his classroom since school orientation. We played spot-the-artwork and, in between the pumpkin ring toss and the cookie decorating, squeezed in a short chat with AJ�s teacher (who was dressed as a bumble bee; the kids were calling her Mrs. Busy Bee)where we learned that he�d been identifying the various bones on his costume for her. I think parent-teacher conferences are likely to be interesting.

After the party was over, we all walked home together, took a quick rest and then headed back to the barn to climb into the hay wagon for trick-or treating. My husband stayed home to many the candy bowl. AJ was greeted by his friend M., who helped AJ climb up the metal hitch and into the hay. I sat on the edge with the beer-drinking dads and wished I�d planned ahead for beverages. When everyone was settled, the wagon lurched down the hill past the paddock, past our house and up the hill across the street, all the way to the end of the street. �Everybody out,� someone yelled and they piled out shrieking, some running to one house, some to another. The wagon drove on, back down the hill. Another wagonload of kids arrived. Soon we rounded the corner where the hill headed down. The sun was starting to set and there were dozens of children sprinting from one side of the street to the other, ringing doorbells. The air was full of happy yells and �trick-or-treats.� A lone skeleton stood at the end of one driveway examining his haul until his friend called, �AJ, AJ! C�mon!� and he went running on.

When we�d reached the wagon, we all heaped on again and moved on to the next street. But by this time AJ was running out of steam. His bucket � a Spiderman head � full of candy, he asked to go home. He was cold and panicky about the chaos of the evening. So we asked the wagon to drop us off and we curled up on the sofa to watch �It�s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown� for the hundred thousandth time. After dinner, we hit a few more of our friends� and neighbors� houses.

AJ has heard from the neighbors that if he leaves his candy outside his door tonight, that the Halloween Fairy will take it away and replace it with a present. I found this idea inspired, and so I decided to go along with it. I helped AJ pick out a few extra special pieces of candy to save and we put the rest in a bag. Tomorrow the bag will have disappeared and in its place will be some Playmobil pirates cavorting with � what else? � a skeleton.

I leave you with a Halloween joke of AJ's own invention:

Q: What do you guess when you cross a pumpkin and a black cat?
A: A Tiger.

[Second entry today; click back to read something that I've already completely forgotten about]

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