Family Friday
Two nights before Halloween, I took my son to one of those haunted forests, purportedly the scariest in the area. As the two of us entered the trail, a pack of shrieking thirteen-year-old girls pressed up close behind us, clinging to our jackets. Even over their screams, I could hear my knees clicking as we moved down the (rather steep) wooded incline at the entrance. What frightened me were not the marauding monsters, but the prospect of losing my footing, tumbling down the slope, and headlining the eleven-o-clock news (Maryland Woman, 40, Breaks Neck in Fall at Haunted Forest).
Meanwhile, my son explained to the screamers that the monsters were just actors wearing masks. "God, he's like six and he's braver than we are!" one said, with my son testily responding "I'm actually nine!" Despite this faux pas, he forgave the girls and allowed them to sweep him off down the trail. Twenty minutes later, after shuffling through the woods by myself, I found my son at the other end, joining the paid performers in leaping out at passersby.
Fast forward two nights to the actual trick-or-treat event. For those of you in suspense, my kids' candy-containing, parent-powered fantasy pirate ship sank before it ever left the harbor. My oldest did indeed dress as a pirate, with some help from my mother and the Salvation Army, but my daughter, who considered being a lady pirate until the principal's stern injunction against scary costumes and weapons, chose the more demure (and sparkly) Tinkerbell for school, then a ladybug costume for trick-or-treating. My four-year-old, never enthused about hanging from the ship as a "skeleton pirate," zeroed in on his brother's old alien costume.
My kids and their friends have covered progressively more ground each year, and this time we explored streets I hadn't known existed. They sprinted, they darted, they dashed, while we parents huffed and puffed and my knees creaked and clicked.
My oldest aimed to hit as many houses as possible, not even remotely caring who kept up, while his sister was not too far behind. Her friend, however, dressed in a gorgeous Marie Antoinette costume, cried in frustration, almost losing her head (ha ha ha) until she shed her poofy wig and clickety-clack heels, allowing her to keep pace at full sail.
My youngest puttered along behind for quite awhile, rather happily, until his pumpkin candy bucket started getting heavy. "Wait for meeeee" he started to wail, then completely broke down. (Cruel as it may seem, there's nothing quite as giggle-inducing as a howling alien). Once up on daddy's shoulders, he cheered up considerably; he's obviously too young to care about being seen with the codger set.
And every Halloween it gets easier for kids to laugh at whatever terrified them just a few short years earlier. For instance, one neighbor constructed a fairly elaborate "haunted garage" for Halloween, which Marie Antoinette and the ladybug traversed several times, squealing but laughing. This same garage would have left them sobbing a year or two ago.
As one astute dad observed, while our kids' endurance increases over the years, ours does just the opposite. As they speed up, we start to slow down. By the time they are teenagers, they will outmatch us completely.
And weirdly, while kids' fears decrease little by little over the years, until they become invincible Teflon teenagers, parental fears increase (Car accidents! Heroin! Serial rapists!). And this on top of all our aches and pains and physical woes (my knees are still clicking from Halloween night). I guess we need to enjoy our little trick-or-treaters while we can.
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