Dear Evan:

For Halloween, you were supposed to be an octopus. Your mama spent days, weeks, hand-making an octopus costume out of a hoodie, complete with tentacles and googly eyes. And when it came down to it, you trick-or-treated as a bee.

You’re three years old now, of course, and fully engaged in the Terrible Twos (which last until, if I’m doing the math correctly, you turn 25). So the day of Halloween, you took a late nap and, half-awake as daylight faded, threw a temper tantrum when we tried to make you into an octopus. Luckily, we had a bee outfit (antennae, wings, a wand that you deemed a stinger) on hand, and soon after buzzed out the door.

Your first trick-or-treating trip, in 2012, you didn’t quite understand. You mostly wanted to explore strangers’ houses. This time around, you soon realized it was better to get candy. And so we toddled down the street over (dogs in tow, one dressed as a bee and the other as a ladybug), stopping at lighted porches and reminding you to say “trick or treat!” and “thank you!” You got lots of compliments from our neighbors and other trick-or-treaters. Enough to offset your mama’s disappointment at the the lack of costume? I don’t think so.

The best stop was at a house where the young man handing out candy had on a Texas A&M T-shirt. Your mama is an Aggie, of course, and early on taught you to say “Gig ‘em, Aggies!” So at this particular house, she was pushing you to say *anything*, but especially that. You didn’t.

Until you were walking down the driveway, candy in hand: “Trick or treat gig ‘em Aggies thank you!” *pause* “I said *all* my words!”

A postscript: A few days later, you and I were walking down the street to the mailbox. You asked whether we could stop at each house for candy.

“Halloween’s over, sweetpea,” I laughed. You considered that in silence… until we got to the next house, where the porch light was on.

“Their light is on!” You danced on the sidewalk in excitement. “We will say trick or treat and they will give us CANDY!”

I love you,

Daddy