When did you last meet a zombie with whooping cough?

I met one.  Today.  In fact I live with one.

A zombie with whooping cough.  Before the madness.

This morning Sarah was told she had whooping cough.  No school til next week, and isolation until Saturday morning.  No gym, no band recital (very quiet high five of self), no sax lesson, no touch football.  Nothing, nada, zip.

And no Halloween.  Oh the horror.

After about 30 minutes of crying, she squared her shoulders and moved on.  I made plans for her siblings to go out without us, and we made a pact to stick together at home.  She would still dress as a zombie and would stay on the trampoline in the front garden and I would hang around near the letterbox handing out lollies.

As we are on a thoroughfare between two of the major Halloween friendly streets in our suburb, we expected to be pretty busy.

I gave Issy and Josh a third collecting bucket and told them to tell the people at each house about Sarah and ask if they could please take a lolly for her.

Issy kept flying the Sarah flag long after Josh lost interest and faithfully brought Sarah back a bucket full of stuff (which she so doesn't need).  The two younger kids then went around the corner where the nearby cul de sac was going nuts and wine was being drunk.

Sarah and I kept up our handing out posts and watched hordes of dressed up kids walk the streets in groups small and large, with parents and without.  There were zombies, witches, princesses, ghosts, ninjas and unidentifiable scary things.

Our bowl of goodies emptied three times and still they came.

Disturbingly, one mum drove her kid up to our driveway and I had to hand him something through the car window.  I really hope there was a reason for that apart from bone laziness.  I'm sure of it.  Sore leg? More whooping cough?

We lit a candle inside George.  He looked fabulous.  I love George.

I drank a cup of tea.  And then I had a glass of wine.

Note: George, full collecting bucket on left, nearly empty handing out bowl on right,  glass of champs.

Sarah saw loads of her friends (but didn't go near them).  They shouted at each other from a distance. I let her go across the road and around the corner by herself as long as she didn't go near any kids.  There was one house with fake graves outside it which was very impressive.

It has been named the "best Halloween ever" by all, even by the child who technically wasn't a participant. I loved chatting to the locals, the neighbours, the school families, even if I couldn't join the party in the nearby street as originally planned.  There's always next year.

George is back inside now because his fabulousness was causing people to knock for trick or treating when we have nothing left.  Their little disappointed faces break my heart.  

It's not my favourite annual event but around here there's no point in being a Halloween humbug.  The kids look forward to it so much.  And if you can't beat them, you simply have to join them.