Horrors

He's too clever by half you know. My son, my pride and joy. Cunning, is another word. Manipulative is another one. I'm not complaining. Much. I'm quite proud of his wileyness (another good word there) but I just wish he......wasn't. Quite so much.

It was 3.40pm on Friday, at the school gate. Queen Bee Mummy had issued her Halloween party invitations but Dawn and I had already agreed that our children would not be attending, not after what happened last year. This led both boys to call us "mean" and mutter "s'not fair". Dawn and I stood firm. "Unless....." said Mac looking at Jonathan and then me "Unless Jonathan comes to our house and you make us a Halloween and all scary things" he went on. I said no, Dawn said no ("I'm not schlepping up and down the road wearing a witches hat, even if you are") and I said no again when I caught sight of welling tears in his eyes, even though I felt like the worlds worst mother. "We can go trick or treating on our own" Jonathan said helpfully, as if this was the issue.

What is the issue, David enquired when he got home and was canvassed on the doorstep by his son. "It's two small boys, quite brave now but petrified at the least little noise on the night itself!" I hissed. "They'll be fine!" David boomed and agreed there and then to turn our house into the House of Horrors. I was still hissing on Saturday morning when I piled Halloween rubbish into my trolley and debated over how many pumpkins to get. And did I get them now or risk leaving it to next week and finding them all sold out?

I muttered "hissing hell!" when I got home and found Mac had called and invited, not only Jonathan and Dawn but "Matt and Lydia and Freddie and grandad and Marjorie and Frank and Janey and Scatty and Blue and Granny".

Who needs to turn our house into the House of Horrors?