Mother's is always a treat. She has Enrico Caruso 33 1/3 rpm vinyls stored in their original accordion case. But the children... well the children had to plug laptops and printers into real live sizzling outlets and crank out end-of-quarter schoolwork. Kids don't write longhand any longer, you know. Teachers prefer the typed word, which is an impossible endeavor in a candlelit house. So we clanked the night away at Mother's.
(I'll be back to Mother's for Caruso.)
I imagined that the kids would be too old for trick-or-treating this year, but there's the candy. There's the neighborhood where Tedy Bruschi lives (with real candy bars!), there's peer pressure and teen-All-Hallows-Eve worshippers who are in no way ready or willing to give up the quest. There's being on the streets, in the dark, void of parental oversight.
Doors will be slammed in your faces! I said.
Ha, Mom, they love us!, the monsters replied.
Who loves you? I don't want to see six-foot tall teens at my door. Don't come to my door!
Besides, they hadn't costumes—I refused to buy them, refused to give in to the high commercialism of holidays and hallow days. Refused to believe that my little Lulu was too old for handmade costumes!
(And this is no way to depreciate the value of my two-year-old sewing machine.)
Mama, observed Lu, this isn't about store-bought costumes or me growing up. It's about you wanting to make another oversized ugly doll or an ice cream cone, isn't it?
The Ice Cream Cone 2010
|The Ugly Doll 2009|
All right, well maybe it is more about me and the machine and wizardry. But look, I do have to make my Singer Confidence pay for itself.
Last night, the monsters managed to piece together suitable outfits for the spooky occasion. Both came home with giant sacks of goodies. No one slammed doors in faces.
After school today, Lu announced that she'd reached her maximum fill of chocolate for the day (she'd snuck handfuls into her backpack), so I promised that I'd remind her of the same throughout the evening, that perhaps we should take the bonbon trough out of her room. Don't worry, Mom, she responded. It's NOT a temptation! It's under my bed and it's not like I'm going to get up in the middle of the night to eat a candy bar.
... Not a temptation.
... Not eating candy bars in the middle of the night.
Of course not. Mama shouldn't worry in the least.
I'm packing up the glow pumpkins, Draculas and rubber bats. Halloween has closed for another year, but its remnant confections shall remind us of the night for some time to come. At least they'd better.
Maybe it's time to start sewing up something for Christmas. (Poor, poor forgotten Thanksgiving.)
|Lu & Max -- Halloween 2008|