Halloween is nearly upon us, which in our house means two things — forced family costumes and one of the biggest ongoing lies I’ve been telling my kids.

Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but I lie to my kids relatively often. Little things, like “The playground is closed” or “McDonalds ran out of cheeseburgers” or “they don’t allow kids there” or “the elf probably didn’t move at all this week because the baby touched him” or “no I don’t have a favorite.”

But this particular lie is a little more complex, and to understand it, you need to understand something about me.

I have given up a lot of control over the years when it comes to my kids. Want to wear pajamas grocery shopping? Go for it. Want to sleep on the floor instead of your bed? Fine. Want to do your own hair before school and look like you got it done at the cosmetology school for the blind? Sounds great, you do you. This is not the hill I’m going to die on.

In exchange, three times a year I get to pick your clothes and make your hair look pretty and you will not fight me. That’s it, just three. Family pictures, holidays, and what has become an annual siblings Halloween costume picture. This is the deal.

I think this seems perfectly reasonable.

My second born disagrees. He’s adorable, he’s sweet, he’s smart, but he might just end up being the death of me. The kid was not made for backing down. I am stubborn, and my husband is stubborn, and somehow Alex inherited both of our stubborn streaks and morphed them into a superhuman form of headstrong, mulish, willful pigheadedness that is unmatched.

He also absolutely cannot stand to be teased. He interprets any laugh in his vicinity as a direct assault on whatever he was just doing, and therefore refuses to do or say anything that could be deemed cute, funny, adorable, or whatever else might elicit a laugh.

Enter the family Halloween costume. Also known as Alex’s personal hell.

He has come to despise taking these pictures every year, but since he doesn’t read this blog and I made both the costumes and him, I have no qualms about posting them on here.

Year one was easy, as he was six months old and although he already had some pretty strong opinions, he was too small to enforce them. They went as Goldilocks and Baby Bear and my heart exploded into a thousand pieces.

Year two was equally easy because the kid was in sweats, and there’s very little to complain about there.

Year three is where things began to go downhill. The costume I planned for them was Mary Poppins.

It was freaking adorable. Which is where Alex’s hatred of sibling costume pictures began. I oohed, I ahhed, I practically squealed at them because “look how cuuuuuuute they were!”

Alex felt viciously attacked by this comment. It was an assault on everything he stood for, and he would therefore never do anything purposefully cute again.

Unfortunately, this happened to be the year Prince Harry wed Meghan Markle, and although we’d already done the Mary Poppins thing, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass by to also dress them as the royal family.

It took hours of bribery to get Alex to even step into the frame. And even then this was the best we could get.

“No problem,” I thought. “He’ll have forgotten by next year.”

Nope. No such luck. And so, the lie was born. This year the costume was White Christmas, and Alex flat out refused. Refused the costume, refused the picture, refused to watch the movie. Which for some parents would just be that. But remember when I said I was stubborn? I was getting a picture of my kids dressed as the cast of White Christmas, so help me God. I would not be out-stubborned by a tyrant I made myself. So, amid the tears and the threats and the exasperated sighs, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

“Alex, we need you in the picture or we’re not going to win the contest.”

At this, the tears stopped ever so briefly, because if there’s anything he does better than a stubborn streak, it’s a competition.

“What contest?”

“The … Halloween Costume contest.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you send in pictures of your family costume and whoever wins gets a years supply of candy.”

“Send in to who?”

“The … candy company.”

And then I went into this whole story about how the rules are that everyone has to be dressed in a themed costume and looking at the camera and how there was a first, second and third prize, and what those prizes were and how I’d heard about this on the radio and how I really thought he’d love to win a prize.

Alex thought about this for a minute and then went right back to adamant refusal. I was about ready to throw in the towel. What kind of three year old turns up his nose at a YEARS supply of candy?!

But, his sisters, having heard this exchange, were suddenly as invested in this costume as I was. And they were not about to let him rob them of this opportunity.

So, he did it. But refused to look at the camera.

The next year, we were back to tantrums and refusals, but his sisters forced him into it.

And again the year after that.

That is one unhappy Tin Man.

Is this my best parenting moment? Absolutely not. Is it going to land him in therapy someday? Probably. But the kid has sent me to therapy enough times that I think we’re even.

Anyway, that first year, I snuck off to Costco, bought a few extra bags of Halloween candy and told the kids we’d come in second, since not everyone was smiling.

The following year, when Evelyn reminded her siblings of the contest, I thought “eh what’s one more year?”

And so on. We continued to take second place, and it continued to work. Last year, all of my kids willingly smiled for their picture as the cast of Frozen.

And last year, for the first time, no one asked about the contest.

I figured they’d forgotten. Or just didn’t care anymore. Until last week, when we got together with friends and they were asking about our Halloween costumes, and the kids started telling the Mom all about this contest they entered every year. When she turned to me and asked who the contest was run through, I did what I always do when uncomfortable and started laughing uncontrollably. Which of course had the kids asking what I was laughing about, and long story short, I told them I’d made the whole thing up and that they could probably never believe another word out of my mouth.

So, the jig is up. It was probably high time it ended — Lottie now has more crowns than actual teeth, and my kids are all candy obsessed.

But, I have the pictures, and that is forever.