Harris and I attended our third annual Mother/Son Halloween Dance Party last night. He has chosen to be Rudolph for Halloween this year, but his costume (that I ordered two weeks ago!) still hasn't arrived, so instead we went like this:
He told me not to worry about it, though, because we could both pretend like we were from the North Pole.
We had a great time. We danced, ate, danced, ate, danced, ate, and danced. We sang loudly when the DJ played "GhostBusters" and "Thriller." We (well, he) did lots of spins and slides on his knees across the dance floor, and Harry even got in on the limbo action.
We ate pizza and Halloween cookies and smarties and potato chips and drank slimer-green punch from the big punch bowl.
And we laughed until we were exhausted.
I really, really like that kid.