Plague and smart-ass-ness

Yesterday was Halloween, which is always fun and always a bit of a madhouse in my neighborhood. We get hundreds of kids at the door, and hundreds of houses to siege down for their sweet, sweet candy.

Alex the Plague Doctor.

Alex loves it, and I kind of love it too. I’d love it more if I wasn’t forty years old, 65 pounds overweight, and a maker of bad decisions when it comes to how many layers of warm clothing I need to keep out the chill. Still, this year I found it all especially awesome because I was in a great mood and not exhausted. That’s novel.

She went as a plague doctor this year, and her costume was a solid hit. At the end of her own trick-or-treating expedition, she hung out on the porch in costume to hand out candy for the last half-hour, and had one small child steadfastly refuse to approach her.

If that’s not a good review, I don’t know what is.

My daughter’s awesome. Also? Kind of a smart-ass.

She asked me to order a book for her, the sequel to one she’s already read, and I asked her to write a note with as much information she could give me, so’s I’d be able to find it on Amazon.

This is what she wrote:

"The Giver (Probably should look it up with the keyword 'book')"
“The Giver (Probably should look it up with the keyword ‘book’)”

Part of me says I ought to try to get her to curb this tendency, but mostly I find it hilarious.