I’m not talking about the blood-curdling screams, Werewolf  and awful gurgling noises that come from the soundtrack we play as we give out treats. (I’m sorry in advance to all the little ones it scares.)

From last year's haunting.

These are the scary sounds of Halloween in my house:

• The slurping drool of children chatting wearing vampire teeth.
• The scream as I dive to prevent one child from putting another child’s wet teeth in his mouth. (Ahhhh!)
• Cries because coats have to be worn over costumes.
• My own muffled swearing as my bobbin jams up in the sewing machine. Again.
• Me, chasing and shooing the giggling baby off the fabric I’m attempting to cut.
• The eerie crinkle of me opening another Reese’s peanut butter cup only to find, alas, it’s the last in the bag. And it’s not even Halloween. Oops.
• The squeal as I accuse someone of traipsing in the house with grease on his or her feet only to discover those black spots on the tan berber are little nests of ‘fro hair that have been shed from Henry’s Weird Al wig.
• Me accusing Henry of losing the same wig only to discover my dear spouse hid it because, Henry was donning it and acting … well … weird.
• Sighs of disappointment when it is discovered that I have confused wanting to be Pocahontas with wanting to be a generic Indian (as in Native American) girl.
• Sighs of disappointment when I confuse wanting to be Jesse from Toy Story with wanting to be a generic cowgirl. (Actually, both completely ploys, but I’m sticking with my story.)
• Howling because the buy-20-for-$1 Halloween pencil lead won’t stop breaking.

The scariest sounds are yet to come in response to: No you can’t have that Laffy Taffy because of your retainer.

Happy howling.