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Whenever I want Tim to do something he's not interested in, he'll pull out any excuse to try to make it go away. He's actually impressively resourceful, like the time my friend Barb threw us a co-ed baby shower. The excuses rained down for months and kept on coming even on the drive over to the shower. Of course he had an amazing time as I knew he would. You'd think after being wrong so often he'd concede the point and just allow me to plan things for us. Sheesh! But I gotta hand it to him. Last night, Tim really dazzled with his ability to come up with impressive excuses. Here's the topper:
"Do we have to do this? I'm not really interested in taking candy away from children."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAT???? How do you figure?"
"Well, he can't eat candy. And the only reason to go trick or treating is to get candy. So we're taking candy away from little kids. To be honest, I don't even know why you want to do this. You hate people and this would involve you having to talk to them."
Wow! First of all, I don't hate people. I just hate stupid people. And ya, there's certainly a LOT of them. Hmm...ok, maybe he's got me there, but my personal proclivities shouldn't impact on my son right? I gotta do things I normally wouldn't do now. PTA meetings, idiotic teachers. I'm sure there's going to be a LOT of things I'm not going to like doing in the many years to come. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with, more than being called out as a no-holds-barred misanthrope, is that I've been deemed this Halloween Scrooge, swindling candy from sweet innocent children with my greedy scabbering claws. Sigh. Tim's suggestion is to take Chester out for a "nice walk around the neighborhood" in costume. What's the freakin' point of that? We live in an area full of junkies, crazies and ne'er do wells. All we're inviting into that scenario is the strong possibility of getting shanked. No thanks. It's also freezing cold today. Like, almost zero degrees. I think we're going to have to settle for a nice (very expensive) photo-op and leave it at that.
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