If Halloween had a Scrooge, his name would be Daniel Robert Herrera.

It's been said that the biggest disappointments in life come from high expectations. Totally true, especially if you're talking about my expectations when it comes to Danny's enjoyment of certain holidays, like his birthday and Halloween.

His birthday seemed almost like an inconvenience to him, so you can only imagine how horrid Halloween was.

I picked Danny up from daycare, and he looked like this:













My first thought wasn't, "Wow, my child is so amazingly cute with his face painted like a clown." Instead, I wondered who in the hell got him to sit still long enough to paint his face, and whether or not I could shake their hand. I also wondered if they still had the tranquilizer gun they used to sedate him on the premises, as I would definitely need it later on that evening.

As soon as I got him in the car, I realized the outlook for a pleasant Halloween experience was slim to none. He whined for my sunglasses, which he yanked of the top of my head (oh, and thaaaanks Danny, guess I didn't need the huge chunk of hair that came with them) and then proceeded to throw them at me while I was driving. He then whined for them back, and repeat x10. The whole time, he looked like the drunk clown in Uncle Buck.

Still, I held onto a tiny smidgen of hope that things would turn around come dress up time. I even let him eat a tiny piece of chocolate after dinner, thinking maybe the sugar high would perk him up. All he did was look at me with a displeased a face, all, bitch this is it? I can barely taste this crumb of chocolate you just put in my mouth.

I rushed him upstairs to put on his white tights (yes, we had to buy him girl tights, as they had no white tights for boys, go figure) and his white turtleneck. That process just added fuel to the pissed off fire. I then asked my Mom to hold his head still (as if torturing him with girl tights wasn't enough) while I drew a brown nose and whiskers on him. He flailed his arms and almost smacked us both on the head, but we bobbed and weaved. The whiskers and nose I finally managed to get on him would've looked better had he done them. During the whole process, I kept thinking, they painted YOUR WHOLE FACE at daycare! All I'm asking for is a dot and six measly lines. What I finally managed to do looked like this:












Now, there was a whole photo shoot planned that included Chester, who was in waaaaaay better spirits than Danny since he can actually take a bribe that includes food. That shoot has been rescheduled pending Danny's tantrum level next weekend. Obviously, shoot 1 didn't go well. My Dad (with video camera poised and ready) said, "The freaking dog is even sitting still."

Even after that, I still never lost hope. I took him outside, and put him down to walk. Cue tantrum. Now, I looked that like idiot parent who makes their kid wear a costume for their own amusement and then carries them around to trick o' treat and then eats their candy. Wait…..

I carried that kid to two houses, and he still refused to walk. He was giving me the toddler equivalent of the middle finger, and finally, I gave up. I looked at him, with his pathetic whiskers and said, "I love you, but I really don't like you right now." We'll process that moment later in therapy.


I took him inside, and my Mom gave him pieces of her Snickers bar that she was enjoying. He knew she'd be a sucker, and got a good bit of chocolate from her. He was up waaaay past his bedtime, running back and forth in his white tights and turtleneck, all jazzed up on chocolate. Guess when it comes down to it, that's what Halloween's about anyway, right?