Today in the car, Magoo noticed that several cars were speeding past us.

Magoo: They are going off the speed limit mom! Totally!
Me: Yep. They’re going pretty fast.
Magoo: They’re going too fast. We don’t drive like that.
Me: Hrm.
Magoo: We don’t drive off the speed limit because we don’t want to get a ticket.
Me: That, and we want to choose the right and obey the law.
Magoo: Yeah. Maybe they just don’t know about speed limits.
Me: Hmmm.
Magoo: Or maybe they just don’t know about Jesus.

In his mind, Jesus equals good. If you are doing what’s good, you’re following Jesus and if you’re doing what’s bad, you are not. He gives you the benefit of the doubt though. If you’re doing something wrong, you may just not know that Jesus exists so you don’t have the option of following him. This can be broadened to include speeding, favorite color choices, not eating your vegetables.

It makes me want to watch my speedometer a little more closely. After all, I’m a good Christian woman. I might as well drive like it.

Magoo’s decided that all motorcyclists have escaped from some sort of parade and that their main role in this world is to smile and wave at him sweetly like Miss Latina Puget Sound sitting on the back of her white Cadillac on the 4th of July. He waves and smiles and yells, “Hi MOTORCYCLE GUY!!!” and waits for the confetti to drop. It never does, but if one of them waves back, he gasps and regales me with the details of their interchange. “Mom. MOTORCYCLE GUY said HI TO ME!!” Ah yes, his life has been touched by the hand of Motorcycle Guy more than once and he may never be the same.

Honestly, I kind of hope he always stays exactly the same as he is now, with his fat little hand waving frantically at the bandana-clad tattoo-happy Harley rider as though the biker were a one-man float in the Macey’s Parade.

Careful driving and pagan holidays — brought to you by children with no parents.

Laylee: Why are you driving so slow?
Me: I’m being careful because there are so many kids out on the streets.
Laylee: You have to drive really slow because some kids have no moms and no dads. Halloween is good for kids with no moms and no dads because they can have something to EAT!

Praise Buddha for Halloween! I was kind of sort of kidding about sending candy to orphans for a tax write-off. I guess some people do it and according to Laylee, that’s the only way they get to eat… so hand out protein bars or fruit snacks next year people.

At each door, Laylee would yell “Trick or Treat,” and knock on the door gently. Magoo would throw his body against the door, bang with his fists and yell “TREAT!” He wasn’t taking the chance that they’d choose the flaming bag of excrement over giving him a pixie stick (thanks to Falwyn for the link).

I fear my children are being ostracized for their Canadian ancestry. In my hood growing up, doorbells were for wimps and losers. If you couldn’t yell “TRICK OR TREAT” loud enough to be heard, you didn’t deserve any candy. Laylee was repeatedly put in her place for not waiting until the candy givers came to the door to say it. She also frequently walked right into stranger’s homes exploring. I think that urge must come from Dan’s side of the family. If she doesn’t curb that tendency, she’s bound to be shunned for the Utah in her too.

To be fair, I often blame my odd quirks on my Canadianism when really, it’s very possible that I’m just incredibly strange.

Laylee: Oooo…It’s pretty,

Laylee: pretty.

Laylee: It’s pretty SCARY.

Every single one of our trick-or-treaters were dressed like a pirate. We only had one — total… but still. Show some originality!

Speaking of no trick-or-treaters coming to my block, I fear I may be falling in love with my next door neighbors and I hardly know them. They spent around 80 hours decorating their house as an enchanted palace of horror, the floating ghosts, the strobe light, the amazing cobwebs, the wreath of bones, the animatronic hand in the candy bowl, the screen projecting NOS FERATU OUT THEIR FRONT WINDOW! They have been in this area 3 years and average 5 kids per year coming by their house so they just try harder and harder. In the Ziploc bags they gave away were multiple candies, plastic jewelry, VAMPIRE TEETH, play-doh and I don’t know what else. They just plain rock.

Laylee ooed and awed over every beautiful dress. “Oh! Isn’t she such a lovely princess?” She made more than one insecure tween girl blush with pride. They should have been proud to be among the few and the bold ones actually wearing clothing tonight.

It seems that most tween boys went as hockey masks and the majority of the tween girls went as mental patients. It was FREEZING out there and I saw way too much black fishnet for my taste.

Me: One more house or go home?
Laylee: One more house.
Me: We can’t go trick-or-treating forever.
Laylee: I promise I won’t make you go trick-or-treating forever.

Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. I love trick-or-treating more than she’ll ever know. I’m so glad I can finally do it again without people rolling their eyes or asking my age.

The Cars movie has influenced the way Laylee sees vehicles. They all have emotions. All Civics are “pretty sad.” Explorers are “more happier.” By the end of trick-or-treating tonight, they were all “pretty tired”, Laylee noticed. I think they were also frozen solid.

And now, a highly accurate scientifically aged photo:

the reasons: fairies and Charlie Brown

Since watching the movie Cars, and I use the word “watching” loosely here to mean having your parents pay $5 to get you into a matinee so you can rotate between the theatre and the restroom like a pinball and accidentally bonk into your brother multiple times as you hop from seat to seat while the movie is playing, Laylee has been obsessed with red cars.

Every red car is a LITE-MEEN THE QUEEN CAR!  It can be a truck, an SUV, a Datsun or a flippin’ Vespa.  If it’s red, then it’s Lightning McQueen, the red race car from the Cars movie and it RULES, period.  It requires a point and a scream of, “MAMA LOOK.  LOOK. LOOK!  IT’S A LITE-MEEN THE QUEEN CAR!”
Me:  oh…wow.
Laylee:  Did you see it?  Did you see it mama?
Me:  um… yeah.  wow.  that was really COOL.
Laylee:  Too bad.  You missed it, I think.  OH OH OH!  LOOK MAMA LOOK.  ANOTHER LITE-MEEN THE QUEEN CAR!  [smugly]  You missed it again.
Me:  No, I saw it.
Laylee:  Why did you miss it?
Me:  Because I was driving.
Laylee:  I’m very disappointed in that.  OH LOOOOOOK!  MAAAMMMAAAA!

Do you know how many red cars are out there? Red trucks?  Large redish bicycles?  MANY, MANY, MANY.

I think it is so cute the first 800 times she does it each car trip, but by the end, as my enthusiasm drops off and she starts disbelieving that I have working eyes in my head because I’m not flipping out with joy that there is YET. ANOTHER. RED. LITE. MEEN. THE. QUEEN. CAR. on the road, it drives me a little batty.

Today she stepped it up a notch.  Not only did she point out each car of the beloved skin color, but she would point out the same car multiple times.  At one point we were driving for about 20 minutes on a curvy road behind a brown van.  In front of the van was a LMTQC!  So every time the road curved and the car became visible, the yelling the questions, the “too bad you missed it mama.”

What I’m worried about now is that she’ll point one out in a parking lot as someone is exiting their vehicle.  I can picture it now. 

Dan takes Laylee to the grocery store, a well-known hotbed of LMTQCs.  Laylee looks over at the muscular guy with the concealed weapon that’s just unconcealed enough to show that he means business, getting out of his red monster F-150.  She yells LOOK IT’S A LITE-MEEN THE QUEEN CAR.  The dude hears her.  “Your kid calling this a queen car?  You think you’re better than me skinny boy?”Â  Too bad I’m not with Dan in this day dream.  I do have a yellow belt, as you all know.

It reminds me of the summer my family drove through Sturgis, South Dakota in early August when tens of thousands of bikers descend on the city for the Sturgis Motor Cycle Rally and Races.  We hadn’t seen that much black leather in all of our short little Canadian lives put together.  It was AMAZING.  We couldn’t understand why my mom tried to shush us from pointing, staring and yelling “LOOK MOM.  IT’S ANOTHER BIKER!”