This year I got out my Halloween flair early. My niece and nephew were coming to visit the last weekend in September, so I
figured I might as well decorate for some potentially appreciative little eyes. I
tried to only get out my favorite pieces, and told myself I had plenty of time
to haul the rest of the holiday’s offerings upstairs if warranted. There was
still the anticipation that this Halloween would vaguely mirror those that have
come before it in this house. The kids were still talking about their costumes
at the beginning of the month, so I set aside any notion that change was coming
our way.
As the month went on, my son started to talk less about
making plans, and I thought my daughter’s enthusiasm had waned. As a
defense mechanism of some sort, I started to lose interest. I really just
wanted to put the decorations away by the middle of the month. I might have even
considered dusting, my mind was in such a bizarre place. Part of me thought we
could just sort of skip Halloween. It’s not like Christmas where there is still
a tradition to uphold, even once the magic of a man in a red suit starts to
fade. Being a creature of habit does not make it simple to change, and sometimes
attempts to do so defy logic.
My daughter asked about getting pumpkins a couple of times,
but we never actually made plans to go. The couple of times I did ask, she was
busy doing something very important on the couch in front of the television.
Sure, I could have ordered everyone into the van and set out to find the great
pumpkin patch, but that was not the way to honor such a tradition. They might
not have even smiled in the photos I forced them to pose for. I do a fairly
decent job of celebrating the people my children are becoming and looking to
what the future has waiting. However, I was not happy with a concrete reminder of
the passage of time being marked by holiday traditions they possibly no longer wanted to
participate in.
Suddenly my daughter declared her costume idea, as my son declared he was not going out. For twelve of her thirteen years, my daughter had no reason to plan for trick-or-treating, as she just went along with the crowd. She had no problem standing as a lime green crayon next to two gangsters. The point was to get candy by wandering the neighborhood in the dark. I started to suggest that she make plans, and tried to ask my son to do me a personal favor by just wandering around in costume for a bit. We have three bins of costume makings in our basement, so it was not as if the effort needed to be a grand one. I had one child with a costume and nobody to share the road with and another child who just seemed to have no ambition.
The day before Halloween we had no pumpkins on our porch, despite the rest of the other décor that was strewn everywhere. The girl had lost interest in actually selecting her pumpkin, but still demanded to have one. It took more than one stop, by more than one parent to make her squash dreams come true at the last minute. I also had to rectify the situation of us having no candy to hand out. Don’t get me wrong, we have candy, and plenty of it, but not trick-or-treater candy.
Suddenly my daughter declared her costume idea, as my son declared he was not going out. For twelve of her thirteen years, my daughter had no reason to plan for trick-or-treating, as she just went along with the crowd. She had no problem standing as a lime green crayon next to two gangsters. The point was to get candy by wandering the neighborhood in the dark. I started to suggest that she make plans, and tried to ask my son to do me a personal favor by just wandering around in costume for a bit. We have three bins of costume makings in our basement, so it was not as if the effort needed to be a grand one. I had one child with a costume and nobody to share the road with and another child who just seemed to have no ambition.
The day before Halloween we had no pumpkins on our porch, despite the rest of the other décor that was strewn everywhere. The girl had lost interest in actually selecting her pumpkin, but still demanded to have one. It took more than one stop, by more than one parent to make her squash dreams come true at the last minute. I also had to rectify the situation of us having no candy to hand out. Don’t get me wrong, we have candy, and plenty of it, but not trick-or-treater candy.
On Halloween morning I felt deflated. The ceramic pumpkins,
plastic skeletons, and other attempts at creepiness were just mocking me from
every nook and cranny. I started to fear that I would have to eat a sensible
breakfast on November first because I was going to have no candy gathering minions by the
grim looks of things. I quickly realized that I might finally feel no guilt
taking advantage of the fifty percent off sales on candy the day after
Halloween, for baking of course. I could not possibly eat all of that candy by
itself. Some of it had to be baked into cookies first. I also started to
consider the potential relaxation that might accompany the absence of the
obligatory rushed dinner, intended only to provide a base layer stomach coating for candy.
While a smidge of hormones coupled
with sentimentality tried to take over in a perfect storm of tears, I rose
above the wave and set my sights on reading a book for the afternoon.
The first text came from my son around 9:45 asking if his friend could
come over. Since the kids had a half day of school, I was guardedly optimistic. I was not sure if they were just going to kill some time in the
afternoon, or if this visit was extending into the evening - prime trick-or-treating time. A few more texts and I realized there was possibility. By 11:00, my
daughter had gotten off the bus and asked if she could go trick-or-treating
with a friend in her neighborhood…absolutely! Oh, but maybe the boy child
wanted to go? Did his friend want to go? Would all interested parties have someone to go with? I let the allure of chocolate wash
over me and tried to just have faith that things would work out.
I remained optimistic, despite Fozzie's refusal to cooperate with his Halloween finery. Seriously, he would not move, in part due to the jingling little bells being absolutely terrifying, and in part because he is a weirdo. When he started crying, I removed the offensive item.
Then this happened...
Then this...
And even this...
It was exhausting and wonderful and I swear I am ready to accept the possibility that it was the last big candy haul. No, really, I am...
I remained optimistic, despite Fozzie's refusal to cooperate with his Halloween finery. Seriously, he would not move, in part due to the jingling little bells being absolutely terrifying, and in part because he is a weirdo. When he started crying, I removed the offensive item.
Then this happened...
