Halloween 2025

This Halloween, my family dressed as the following characters:

8-year-old: Phineas

10-year-old: Ferb

Mom: Candice 

Dad: Perry the Platypus 

If you have never watched Phineas and Ferb, it is a Disney Channel revelation of a cartoon. Two brothers - Phineas and Ferb - come up with backyard ideas that their sister, Candice, finds anywhere from suspicious to revolting. She continuously attempts to warn her oblivious parents of the cockamamie schemes of her younger brothers. Meanwhile, a crime fighting platypus named Perry is fighting off Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, an evil purist of the skies. The madman versus semiaquatic mammal storyline interlocks with the sibling showdown each and every episode.

In short, it fits our family.  

As our girls have gotten older, our Halloween exploits have evolved or revolved. We have reprised costumes from years gone by for the nostalgia or comfort. I first was Perry the Platypus during the pandemic. I actually wore a Perry onesie to a farm in Virginia in 2020. There is no better illustration of how messed up Covid was than the picture of me as an out-of-state public Perry, masked, with parrots landing on my head. The birds believed I was one of them. I was disheleved and also believed I was semi-aquatic, semi-parrot, or going insane. 

5 years later, I decided a Perry trucker hat with matching T-shirt was a more socially acceptable way to parade around town as a 41-year-old. I still have the Perry onesie yet only plan to wear it outside of Pennsylvania during a Round 2, mid-life crisis.

Before any of this Halloween's tomfoolery, our family took our 10th weekend getaway to Creekside Resort, a Bedford County hidden gem in the metropolis of Clearville. Beginning in October of 2015, our family of four has done some glamping in cabins named Lily Pad, Beaver Lodge, and Turkey Roost out in the middle of nowhere. It has become our safe haven for a haunting good time in all seasons, but mostly in autumn when the leaves are changing and the hiking trail is surrounded by roaming wildlife. I have watched my girls grow up at Creekside and I will now pause to cry.

(Pause)

This year my parents occupied a cabin and so did my brother and his family. We roamed like the wildlife. We soaked in the glory of Mother Nature, family, and good health from frosty sunrises to fireside stargazing. I even organized a kickball game in apex heat on Saturday that I greatly enjoyed despite my brother getting the winning RBI and sealing my loss. Prior to this hit, both my nieces walked off the field due to their lack of enjoyment. And I may or may not have tossed my eldest daughter out of the game for foul remarks to her younger sister. 

Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with family kickball.

On the Sunday we exited Creekside, our Subaru Ascent descended into Accident, Maryland. My daughters and I were excited to return to the Cove Run Farm Corn Maze. My wife was not excited as she associates corn mazes with getting lost and/or movie murders. I assured her that this is real life and small children routinely enter and exit the corn maze without the threat of abandoment or death. 

Prior to our maze escape this year, we ate lunch at Brewery and The Beast, a delicious play on words brewhouse. I ate a scrumptious smoked pulled pork sandwich. An hour later, after surviving the corn maze as a family unit, I spent quality alone time petting two pigs at Cove Run Farm. You bet your pork belly I thought about the irony and the table to farm experience I was having.

While I was in my pig confessional, my girls were feeding cows. My wife was not feeding cows. She was in deep, deep reflection on how this was not the life she wanted to live and she will never ever feed a cow. The Terrifier for her is The Farm. I reminded her how happy the girls were to be back and how I would be a terrible, terrifying farmer. 

We returned to our homeland safe and sound. Thanks, Cove Run. At least 3 of us will be back next year!

On Trick-or-Treat night, darkness fell as we walked the streets of Westmont and then Brownstown. Hundreds of community members were handing out candy or in pursuit of it. The wind would occasionally howl. A child would occassionally scream. One of my good friends, a 1st grader, would punch me after every candy he received. This has nothing to do with celebrating the holiday or his analysis of the candy. It is my fault - I have made myself an open invitation for rough housing so the sidewalk jabs and hooks to the spine are of my own doing. If you are a concerned community member and saw a youthful Sonic the Hedgehog fighting a grown man Perry the Platypus, I sincerely Do Not apologize. 

24 hours after the Trick-or-Treat, our family scattered all the candy on the living room floor. We did some inventory. I claimed the three Almond Joys. My 8-year-old tried to make a claim for a Joy but this was not a democratic process. She did not put up much a fight as she was in a sea of Skittles. We decided that many of the treats will be shipped to the military to get soldiers sugared up. 

Support the troops. Save parents. America. 

As I retire another Perry costume after another fun Halloween season, I take inventory of what matters most - we continue to count candy and our blessings together...continue to explore, gather, and laugh with gratitude for what we have...continue to be community driven and humor powered. 

"CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!!!!!!!!"  - Dr. Doofenshmirtz