I hope you had a nice Halloween. I made life easy on myself this year and bought my kids’ costumes – what did you do?
The reason I am writing today is what percentage of your kids’ Halloween haul are you allowed to steal?
In Need of Chocolate
My Halloween was lovely, thank you. I dressed as a stressed-out drunk housewife and everyone believed it; it was about as accurate as you can get. As for the kids, I too, thought I would buy their costumes. Tabby wanted to be a dragon (I know – shocking) and Logan wanted to be Armand Jean du Plessis (no, I have no idea who that is. I assumed his short attention span would have him forgetting this request by the time we got to the store.)
So we unloaded at the pop up costume shop and looked through the aisles of costumes. I had to chuckle at the “sexy” costumes – sexy ladybug, sexy princess, sexy stoplight, sexy butterfly – I can’t believe what they make sexy now. I flagged down Jimmy, who worked there – at least I think he worked there, he wore a name badge and had an orange vest on; his utter disinterest in anything Halloween or the fact that I was asking him a question gave me pause. I asked if perhaps he could direct me to the children’s section, which he said I was already in. I held up the four squares of scrap material that made up the “girl superhero” costume and asked, “This is supposed to cover my daughter’s… coverables?”
“Oh, no – that’s the cape and the stuff to cover the shoes. This is the main costume.”
The tube sock he gave me was smaller than her baby hat in the hospital.
I walked Logan to the “boy” section or, as I thought of it, Leatherface’s rec room, and had to cover both their eyes to stop the screaming (Jimmy the Indifferent was covering mine for the same reason.)
We left the store empty handed (save for the “adorable black cat” key chain that Tabby “had” to have… only I didn’t pay for it and didn’t learn she had pocketed it until we got home) and we readjusted our costume plans. After much discussion, negotiation and bribery, Tabby said she was going to be a dragon. Logan agreed to go as a ghost. So I grabbed an old sheet and cut some eyes in it – done. I put it on Logan and he asked, “What am I?”
“You’re a ghost – remember?”
“No I’m not.”
“Sure you are. Boo!”
He pulled the sheet form his head and asked “But who am I? I have never seen anyone look like this?”
“No, ghosts – they float around and go wwwwoooooooooo.”
“Ghosts are the ethereal manifestation of the spirit that once embodied a living being. Every ghost is as unique as the person who lived was. Are you, perhaps, thinking of specters?”
“Okay, so you are a specter.” I reasoned.
“Specters foretell danger. I don’t think this… sheet would be effective in foretelling anything.”
“Where are you getting all this?” I asked
Tiring of trying to understand the conversation I was currently having with my 9 year old, we came back around to Armand Jean du Plessis, but as a ghost (I figured a beret should cover me here, right?)
The end of the story is, The Mothers vetoed Logan’s costume because they thought Cardinal Richelieu was too political (I swear, they never listen to me) so I cut armholes and a headhole out of a cardboard box, glued some hair clips on the top and he went as a dead car battery. Tabby wore yet another “conceptual” costume that was supposed to be a dragon but was really a series of magazine cutouts and hastily scrawled line figures that were also “supposed” to be dragons taped to a t-shirt. In anticipation of when people asked her what she was, I taught her to say, “really, you can’t get this?” in the most derisive way possible.
You asked me something, didn’t you?
Thank you to Patience M from Aurora, CO. If you would like to send Supermom a note, email her at AskSupermom@placedeplume.com