The Chicken or the Egg

Well in our case, clearly the chicken came before the egg.

Ha ha, aren't I just too clever?

Trinity was geared up and ready to greet the trick or treaters last night.  

He loves Halloween.

He went to Sam's Club the night before to load up, and returned with two 105 piece bags of candy.

He bought a medley, if you will.

Baby Ruth, Snickers, Milky Way and M&Ms.

I hate all of those except for the M&Ms.  Caramel is not my thing, and lord knows what that funky filling is inside a Baby Ruth bar.

No thanks.

Anyway 2 X 105= 210 pieces of candy.

A lot, I thought.

Alas, at about 5:45 last night, he started to fret.

He was concerned he didn't have enough. I told him that 210 pieces of candy was enough.  He mentioned that he estimated that he had eaten 11 pieces himself, thus leaving only 199.

Again, I tried to reassure him.

He then proceeded to launch into a story problem that I might use with 3rd graders.

It went like this.

"But, Betsy, listen.  I think I need to start with one piece per spook.    That should be enough.  But, you know, spooks can come to your door in anywhere from one spook to a group of 10 spooks.  You just don't know until you open the door.  If I find that I have lots left over about midway through the night, I can then give more pieces per spook."

I was speechless.  He thought this out thoroughly.  Plus I learned that "spook" is Trinity speak for a Halloween costumed child.

Goodness, the situation was heating up.

Would there be enough candy per spook?

Once the candy was set by the door, he suited up.

In his chicken costume.

Genevieve was then fashioned into an egg by her mother.

Who is this foul fowl?

That big chicken be yo' daddy.

It can't be!

Yes, yes it is he.

(note the candy strategically placed on a chair by the door.  This provides optimal grabbing potential for the Chicken man.)

Between doorbells the Chicken and his egg watched TV.

Here Genevieve is thinking about how she would like to go to Chick-fil-a.

We're all thinking it, dear.

I wrote EGG on her onesie, so everyone would understand.

Being an egg isn't all it's cracked up to be.

My mother couldn't be any punnier if she tried.

We had lots of spooks and they were delighted that my husband answered the door in costume.  However, he was dismayed that at least 2 spooks said "Hey, Duck," to him.

Those dumb kids clearly can't identify birds correctly.  

He was obviously a chicken.

Our night ended as it always does these days-

with a bottle of formula for G, and a glass of wine for Mommy.

Oh, and we have about 42 pieces of candy left.