Friday night, a few neighbors stopped by trick-or-treating. We started talking. And after fifteen minutes of chatting, I finally asked their four-year-old what her name was. I couldn't decipher anything. Well, except for what I assumed was an attempt at her last name. It sounded a lot more like an obscenity. So much so that I was afraid to ask her to repeat it. Her parents translated: "Trinity Funk."
I don't care anymore. "Uhn-a-ville" is no big deal.
Our Halloween this year was a thrown together, last minute affair. It's not my favorite holiday. In fact, I would say I get more excited about Lamb Day in Fountain Green Utah.
Like, way more excited.
So, without any costume planning, I slid Grace into one of Karlee's old ballet tutus, and added wings from another of her costumes. She became Tinkerbell. We only went to the ward's trunk-or-treat on Wednesday (we didn't do any candy-hunting on actual Halloween), and so I wasn't going to dress Claire up at all. My Mom, though, (ultimate hater of the goulish holiday) surprisingly found this unjust, and felt the necessity to give Claire pigtails and freckles as Pippy-Longstocking.
I think she ends up looking more like a cowgirl.
Judge for yourself.