I went, with the soon-to-be-witch and the erstwhile cowboy, to that final Walmart run (*shudder*) and the Junior League Thrift Store remarkably sturdy grunge-wear run. The Zombie rolled in the mud and destroyed, enthusiastically, the circa 1992 flannel shirt and gray cords that were just glad to be put back in circulation in any capacity.
The Zombie had to be coached to stay off the couch at the friend's who was kind enough to host football -pizza - cocktails before. The Zombie's mud, while dry, was not entirely embedded. Nor was the Zombie's face, for that matter.
The Witch's tutu was more sheer than we counted on, and got a little tangly. But went well with striped tights purchased years earlier for her brother's alien costume (it was an ill-considered detail, saved for later. Used here.) The shoes aren't showing, but are silver glitter flats. She is the Wicked Witch of the West re-imagined. Not, as her uncle suggested, Mae West.
pPod was a pirate all day at school on Friday, and in the afternoon on Saturday, and changed into cowboy for Saturday night. His boots came. And were promptly put on the wrong feet. By me. And fixed. By a neighbor (who assumed he had done it himself - and found it very funny that, in fact, he had not. She does not - it should be noted - have children.) He was coached not to point the capgun at anyone - including himself, after he and Sebastian answered the door for a very shy butterfly (ghoul, plus little brother with gun in his ear. She will be no less shy next year, we can assume.)
There was football, there were friends, and there was loads and loads of candy. Pretty much perfect in every way that could matter.