So said Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Halloween was when the cat had his day to mew, as Jimmy, after much deliberation, finally settled on wanting to dress up as a black cat for trick-or-treating.
It almost didn't happen. For several days before Halloween, I worked on the costume so that Jimmy could trick-or-treat on Monday at Jim's workplace, Suncadia. With the clock ticking (one hour and counting 'til trick-or-treating), my sewing machine (a Singer 401A that's 17 years older than I am) suddenly started having thread tension issues. And the spindle for the thread spool kept popping off in mid-stitch. And then the bobbin thread started tangling.
Fear not, the costume was completed with moments to spare—but then, because that would have been too easy and we might have actually been on time for the trick-or-treating, I had to undergo high-powered negotiations with Jimmy about whether he would even put the costume on (we finally settled on him wearing his cat costume if I gave him a fruit snack). Forget about having whiskers and a kitty nose painted on his face!
Halloween itself was far easier; the costume was no longer a novelty and no negotiations were necessary since Jimmy understood that people would give him candy because he was dressed up. We went for a half-hour to our church "trunk-or-treat"—after which it became too cold when the thermometer dropped down in to the 20's, so we headed to Grandma Gail's house and then home for the night. Jimmy still got enough candy that properly rationed, it should last until after Thanksgiving.
