It was hot and humid, even for the tropics. Eloise was tired and floppy, and—most surprisingly—declining to trick-or-treat anymore, even with easy pickings. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Mommy, I needa take it off.” And with that, her plastic sparkly spider-girl tutu dress came off. It was soaked with sweat, the poor baby. She’d essentially been wearing vinyl all day in 86 degrees with a million percent humidity. The cool sea breezes on her tummy invigorated her candy senses, and before I knew what to do she’d run off to a house and yelled, “Trick-or-treat! WOO HOO! My tiny butt!” in a sparkly pink necklace, glow bracelets, and her Hello Kitty underpants.
“Oh, costume change, I guess she’s a college girl,” I said. The parents around us laughed appreciatively at that. But with her hair in her trademark pigtails, people immediately assumed she was the Coppertone Baby. “How appropriate for Hawaii!” one lady said.
Thanks. I would never let my tot run around in the dark in her underwear, because that would be humiliating. We totally planned it. And then we went home.