thrift shop halloween

imagination gets a test at the place i love the best
how could i get dressed without a thrift shop
(Dan Zanes, "thrift shop")

I have been a fan and patron of the thrift shop even BEFORE it became the in-thing for economical and environmental reasons. As with all good parenting, I have also converted my kids to the dark side. They LOVE going to the thrift store and greet news of an impending trip with the same excitement as a trip to the candy store (and, unfortunately for their teeth but fortunately for their dentist, that is some level of excitement).

As part of my cheap ways, I have convinced my kids that creating their own costumes for Halloween is way better and loads more fun than purchasing something at the local rent-a-store halloween shop. Abusive, I know. In addition to three Halloween costumes, we also scored two pairs of jeans for me (because I refuse to pay more than $5 for jeans that will eventually, despite my best efforts, get sheep poop on them), a pair of church pants for Primo (only $2 because they need a button) and a brand new Rutgers sweatshirt for Secondo. All for only $37.52! What's not to love?

Here's what they came up with for Halloween:

Primo was a bank teller (that's the logo of a local bank), with fake money stuffed in his vest. He didn't wear the sign for long, though his father and I thought it was hee-larious. More abuse.

Secondo was a nerd. He really got into the role, and took great delight in walking knock-kneed and posing with his pants hiked up and his teeth showing.

Terzo was a Yankees baseball player/batboy. His costume got him extra candy at the houses of several Yankees fans. He made sure to announce loudly whenever he scored extra sugar.

Secondo was by far the most dedicated trick-or-treater this year. Primo had a sleepover at a friend's house. Terzo was pooped after walking over a mile up and down our town's Main Street. But Secondo, spurred on by the specter of free candy for one night only, was like the Energizer Bunny. He convinced me to take him to a local development after he finished in town; because it was late, I gave him 45 minutes to get through the entire tract. (The houses are on 2 acre lots, so that was no mean feat.) All I could hear in the still of the night was the zip-zip-zip of his corduroy pants as he rushed from house to house.

Not sure if it was the buck teeth effect or the fact that he was the last/only kid out in that neighborhood, but he hit the jackpot.