Halloween Hysteria

The Halloween intensity had been on a slow-build trajectory for a week or so. A couple of pre-game shows at various nursery schools and "Mommy & Me" classes did nothing to reign it in. N went abroad as a monkey with a costume borrowed from a former pretend primate.

L went as... No, I'll let you guess. Bingo! Ariel the Mermaid.

It was interesting to note that at her nursery school with a class size of a dozen or so, L was one of, count them, three washed-up mer-creatures. The Santa Ana winds must disrupt their migratory patterns.



Though the wait was interminable, the much anticipated day did eventually arrive. Even with a rationing of sugar, L was in a frenzy all morning and afternoon. When Aunt Claudia came over to help with the evening's festivities her Spaz-o-meter pegged out at 10. N remained pleasantly oblivious to momentousness of the occasion.

While L entertained Claudia with endless costume changes and accoutrement options, Stacy and N tackled our Jack-O-Lantern. I was tied up with a tight plumbing-repair schedule and wasn't too involved with all the prep. (Though I'll argue that my Halloween was by far the most angst- and horror-filled of the family.) Nevertheless, I feel they did an outstanding job on old Jack.

Soon it could be pushed off no longer: The dress rehearsal! The kids dawned their gay apparel and set off with Mommy and Aunt Claudia for their traditional late-afternoon candy run to Grandma Flo's house and all our other former neighbors.

A shot of N during the only 10 seconds he kept his head on.

Little-known fact: Sometimes mermaids look a lot like cross-dressing cabaret dancers.

Grandma Flo gets into the swing of things too. She always accompanies the becostumed youngsters on their rounds of the neighbors. It's hard to tell who's the bigger kid.

Silly Grandma Flo!

Dress rehearsals over, its back home for the real deal. The stage lights go down and Claudia stakes herself out on the front porch in her three-fold role: protector of the premises, executive candy distributor and chief filmographer of every Micky Mouse and Power-ranger who should happen by. Soon Justine, L's friend from ballet class, arrives with her Mom and sister and the curtain rises.


I was able to break away from the terrors of P-traps and wall pipes and tail pipes and focus on some more mundane horrors and accompany the crowd around our neighborhood a while. Our first stop was Grandma Donna's and Grandpa Wayne's house.


L's approach to trick-or-treating is rather unconventional. Taking her lead, I suppose, from the political environment around her, she seems to have very distinct thoughts on how best to handle the current candy crisis plaguing our nation. Unlike most of our politicians, she had no problems stating her position clearly on camera.

For those of you who are L-speak challenged, I offer the following play-by-play.

L:	Come on, let's go!
Daddy:	Where're you going?
L:	We're goin' to go see tricker-treaters.
Daddy:	You're going to go see trick-or-treaters, or you're going to go be a trick-or-treater?
L:	I'm going to go find tricker-treaters and give them some candy.
Daddy:	I think you've got the whole point a little reversed, but, hey...
Mommy:	It's a good reversal...
L:	But first I'll say "Tricker-treat," so they'll know.
Daddy:	You're not a very good trick-or-treater; you're more of a socialist!
L:	No, I know how to give it to scary guys.
Daddy:	Can you say "Hey!" to Mimi and Grampy?
L:	Hey, Mimi and Grampy!