Nov 022009
 

halloween092It was the morning of Halloween and we still didn’t have a costume for Chooch. We tried everything: reminding him that no costume = no candy; telling him that Blake was wearing a costume and therefore was the better son; and, when all else failed, threatening to disown. Thankfully, a last minute trip to the Halloween store found Chooch agreeing to go with the good old Halloween costume stand-by: Jason Voorhees. (Although in lieu of a machete, he wanted to carry Play-Doh. yeah, I have no idea, either.) To be fair, he had actually said a few times that’s what he wanted to be, but Henry and I were unsure how well he’d do with his face obscured by plastic, because he’s a little anal about these things. (OK, he’s my son, so – a lot.) And we also knew that face-painting was totally out.

The next thing we knew, it was nearly 6pm and Chooch began putting up a fight. I had already decided hours ago that if this happened, I was just flat out not going at all. This was the first time in years that I was completely not feeling it anyway and would have preferred staying in with a glass of wine rather than sidestep around throngs of screaming children burped straight out of Hell’s mouth. But then the deadbeat mother internal guilt trip set in, so I sucked it up and struggled to get dressed.

And while Henry was struggling to get Chooch dressed (which only required him wearing regular clothes anyway), we were blessed when a crew of early trick-or-treaters knocked on the door. Chooch stood behind me and watched as I filled the bags of a lion, lady bug and some stupid action hero with mini M&Ms (we waited until an hour before and aside from Dum-Dums, that’s all that was left at the CVS down the street; still, that’s better than handing out Slim Fast bars like I was once pressed to do). Suddenly, Chooch seemed to get it and was all, “OK I’m ready hurry let’s go come on.”

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At least I had the foresight to splash some red paint on the mask.

Some Things I’d Like Chooch to Learn For Next Year:

  1. The order is: trick or treat; thank you; Happy Halloween. And you say these things while you’re still at the person’s house, not back on the sidewalk, blurting them all out in one breath as you flee the scene. Unless you’re doing something at these houses that I’m unaware of. Fuck, are you swearing at these people?
  2. Participating houses are not just the ones with dogs on the porch. Next time, I won’t chase you down and pull you back to the houses you missed, so just imagine all the candy you’ll lose out on. Dummy.
  3. Yes, Halloween decorations are so cool, Chooch; I agree. But the longer you’re bent over admiring some spooky electrical lantern, the longer Mommy has to stand in awkward silence with the homeowner, so knock that shit off. Get the fucking candy and LEAVE. You can thumb through a Halloween decor catalogue later, Christopher Lowell.
  4. STOP CHOOSING STUPID SHIT LIKE SUCKERS AND TOOTSIE ROLLS. Dots and candy necklaces? WRONG.  By the end of the night, only a third of the bounty was chocolate-certified, delicious-approved. And what was up with that mini bottle of bubbles? YOU CAN’T EAT BUBBLES. Halloween is about collecting an entire pillowcase worth of all that’s wrong with Americans and their metobolism, and you failed. (Although, good job on scoring three Baby Ruths. What diamonds in the rough.

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If I ignore the fact that I was stuck by Henry’s side for an hour and a half, I’m able to glean a few highlights from the night.

  • Chooch and Michael Myers staring each other down on the porch of one house.
  • A group of older girls doing a shrill, “OMG it’s Jason!” every time they passed Chooch. Each time, he looked up at me and laughed and I could tell he was proud. He really loves that Jason Voorhees. (I think he does it on purpose, knowing I’m a Michael Myers girl.)
  • We passed another, slightly older Jason who was wearing his store bought hockey mask as-is. I scoffed and said to Chooch, “At least your mask has blood on it.” Another lesson in snobbery complete.
  • Walking down the street with a group of teenagers, Chooch yells, “Aw SHIT Daddy. You forgot to bring my knife!” It got real quiet after that.
  • Convincing him to growl “Trick or treat” and “Happy Halloween.” That went over well with all the old ladies.
  • Some asshole made the mistake of saying, “Oooh, look at this scary Freddy Kreuger!” As Chooch stomped away, he snarled, “I’m NOT Freddy Kreuger!”
  • Learning that Scary German Guy lives in Brookline.
  • Now I know where Robin’s Loud-Mouthed Friend lives.

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Chooch demanded to be carried like a baby for the last block or two, and aside from deleriously sprawling out in people’s front yards toward the end (and also laying in the middle of the road which is always a terrific thrill for a mother), he did really well and covered a good bit of streets for a three year old. And the biggest plus: his attention span lasted way longer than mine.

  6 Responses to “Halloween 2009: Where Jason Prevails”

  1. I love how the Jason mask makes his head look all gigantic. I can only imagine him swinging a machete at old ladies!

    • Lol, I know! I couldn’t stop laughing at how disproportioned he looked!

      That was one of the reasons I was glad Henry didn’t buy a machete – I kept picturing him hitting some poor Tinker Bell with it.

  2. Chooch made a fantastic jason! Your retelling of the night made me LOL a lot, both when you spoke it- but even more so in this post. You kill me.

  3. “throngs of screaming children burped straight out of Hell’s mouth.”

    I LOVE this. What a perfect way to describe them.

    Freddy Krueger?! Come ON, people!!!

    • Fucking city kids suck so bad. So rude and obnoxious! Not that other kids AREN’T, I guess. I just try to keep my distance. At least now I have a reason to not hand out candy. I’m so awkwardly fake about it. “Oh. What a ….. nice costume. Cute. Goodbye.”

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