Ouch, my eyeball hurts

Sometimes on the darkest, most sinister eve of the year, an eyeball makes it into a trick or treat bag. Not just any eyeball, a sticky, non-wrapped, partially tore, candy eyeball.



The eyeball, it seems, was in the costume spirit. It was dressed like a bouncy ball, but I when I suggested to Cooper that is what it was (the eyeball tricked me), he said it was candy. How did he know? That's right, he licked it. The eyeball became my walking parter for the rest of the evening as to prevent any more spontaneous lickage.

I bet that eyeball is missing home about now. I can only imagine a poor little child meandering the house in a sugar crash haze muttering the following over & over again, "eyeball, eyeball, whose got my eyeball".

I do.