What a Cute Little Lobster!

I have an addiction to candy.  Specifically, gumballs.  So you can imagine my excitement at the prospect of a holiday that provides FREE candy to people.  Unfortunately, those people are children wearing costumes, and claiming you're dressed as a Cool Mom only gets you dirty looks.  It was therefore a beautiful thing when I popped out a child 5 days before Halloween.  Sidenote:  It was not so beautiful at the next holiday gathering, when I was forced to eat Thanksgiving dinner with a screaming newborn strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn.  In case you are wondering, gravy is not easily removed from cradle cap.  (It was at this point that I began to wonder how old a child has to be before a cool mom can enjoy a peaceful holiday meal.  My kid is 5 now, and I'm still waiting.  He has already announced, "Don't think you're gonna get me to eat any of that turkey this year.  I don't care how much you yell."  Well.  I'm excited, aren't you?) 
But back to Halloween.  Before my kid could even walk, I would stuff him into a fluffy costume, break out the stroller, and take him around the neighborhood.  Did it matter that the kid a) could not even say trick-or-treat and b) was sound asleep?  Nope.  I had a kid, goshdarnit, and everyone knows the rule is: kid + costume = candy.
However, for normal, non-sugar-addicted grown-ups, the best part of having a little one at Halloween is the costume.  Suddenly creatures and foods that you would never, ever find "cute" in real life become endearing when a pudgy baby face is sticking out of it.  (Granted, that face is probably crying from the embarrassment of being trussed up like, say, a lobster.  But hey, a red face goes with the costume!)  A peapod?  Adorable.  Hot dog?  Precious.  And I dare you to name another time you get the urge to snuggle a honeybee.
This weekend I also saw a tiny child dressed as Leatherface.  So there's always that option.  (I know, this is the part when I rant and rave about how many things are wrong with a 2 year-old-texas-chainsaw-body-butcherer.  But I'm feeling charitable this holiday weekend, so I won't go on about how that mom will only be able to see her son through a bulletproof glass partition in 20 years.  Maybe 10.)
When the big event is all said and done, and  my child goes to bed that Halloween night, I sort through the candy to pull out all the things he "won't eat", "probably won't eat", and "well, he will eat it, but I gave birth to him and now have to pee every 20 minutes so it's only fair that I eat it myself."  Is this wrong?  Maybe.  But so are stretchmarks.