Bad Mother: A Chronicle Of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, And Occasional Moments Of Grace - Plot & Excerpts
Sexy Witches and Cereal Boxes There are two kinds of twelve-year-old girls: sexy witches and cereal boxes. Older teens still go trick-or-treating on Halloween, but they do so ironically, wearing casual, thrown-together costumes and affecting a jaded superiority to the hordes of smaller children for whom Halloween is Nirvana, the celestial circle closest to God. Twelve or thirteen is the last gasp of innocent devotion to the holiday. It’s the last year that costumes are planned in the winter, refined in the spring, and constructed in the fall. It’s the last year that a full-sized Twix bar will elicit rhapsody and too many vanilla Tootsie Rolls will make you cry. In seventh grade, some of the girls will apply black eyeliner with a novice’s shaky fingers, beg their mothers for false eyelashes, and slink around the neighborhood in their sexy witch (or sexy kitty, or sexy devil, or sexy vampire) costumes. The other kind of girl will construct bulky costumes that conceal as much of her body as possible, making liberal use of cardboard packing boxes with holes cut for her arms and legs.
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