I was walking home tonight through throngs of adorable trick or treaters. My heart cracked a million times in a 2-block radius. Small princesses twirled towards me and basically stood stock still, staring at me, waiting for my reaction. I did not disappoint. “You look so great!!” A Superman who was all of 2 and 1/2 feet tall stalked right up to me, DEMANDING in his aggressive stance that I respond. I did not disappoint. “Wow! Superman! Fancy meeting you here!”
I then witnessed (and was a part of – a “third party” to) a small scene which encapsulated all of parenting everywhere, in every era, every timeframe, every culture. It was so fanTAStic. I won’t editorialize too much – just want to get it down.
I strolled towards my street. I became aware that 2 small boys, probably aged 6 or 7, were literally rolling around on the pavement in a scuffle. Rolling. They weren’t throwing punches, or being too rough, they were just wrestling fiercely. One was dressed as Elvis in Elvis’ bloated Vegas later years, and one was a skeleton. Standing over the two fighting boys were two mothers, and as I approached I heard one of them say – in a voice that could only be described as FLAT – she wasn’t pleading, or cajoling, or scolding. She had been in this situation 5,000 times and was merely speaking the truth. She is an ADULT being faced with the absurd intensity of children – and she accepted it – but she did not succumb to it. I heard her say, “Nobody’s costume is better than the other’s…” which already made me start laughing. Elvis and the skeleton were rolling around due to competitive feelings about costumes. But it was her TONE that really struck me. I just fell in love with her. She was barely paying attention, actually – she was chatting with the other mother, and broke focus long enough to say, “Nobody’s costume is better than the other’s …”
These seemed to be the magic words so the two little fighters broke apart and stood up – retreated to their corners, if you will. This was right as I came right up next to them and I said, “I think you BOTH look amazing.”
Elvis and the skeleton stared up at me, alert, eager. I had said the right thing. I can’t even describe how hysterical they both looked, especially since they both were so small.
The mothers both leapt on my comment, taking it as a teaching moment, I suppose – and one said, “See?? That’s an opinion from a third party!”
We all moved on. I went on my way, and that foursome went on their way, and I heard Elvis say in a small mouse voice, the fight completely forgotten, “What’s a third party?”
And I heard the mother launch into an explanation, “A third party is when someone from outside weighs in on a certain topic …”
Their voices faded away into the dark as I turned onto my street.
Beautiful.
I loved every single moment of that exchange.
I like that story and the lesson of accepting that kids will be kids, but not succumbing to all that. It’s only in the last ten years or so that I truly understood just how good my parents were at that.
I’m also envious of your throngs of trick or treaters. I loved Halloween as a kid and kind of think it’s my duty as an adult to be there for the kids. The number of kids stopping by has dwindled over the years though, and so far tonight; one group of five kids. I looked down the vacant street at 7:00 and my house was the only one on the block with a front light on or a jack-o-lantern. What a bummer.
Dave E – the Halloween decorations in my neighborhood rival Disneyworld!! But, sadly, my apartment building has a buzzer to let you in … so I get no trick or treaters. I would love to be in a place, someday, where I could hand out candy to little ones. It is cool, though, that my neighborhood – my urban neighborhood – still has roving bands of trick or treaters!! They’re so damn cute!!!
And yeah, I loved how the two mothers were kind of tiredly letting the two boys fight – not intervening – at least not in any overt way. They were basically saying, “Boys, GET OVER IT” with their behavior – it was so funny!!!
Oh, and add on to all of this the thick Spanish accents – and you will get the vibe of my ‘hood. I love it.
I cannot stop giggling about this whole scenario. It’s seriously making my day.
What an awesome story.
I love it. And I love how quickly the boys shook it off. Resilient little fellows. . .
Nathan is one today! Woo-hooooo! A year ago right now, I had already had back labor and, as a result, my epidural and was feeling GREAT. . .Can’t wait till he’s old enough to trick or treat. Next year. Oh, and I would like some pictures of Cashel’s costume, please.
Oh, and one more thing. From the ancien régime. We had a show last night. And because it was Halloween, I took every opportunity I could to do my dead body. I plant myself face-down on the floor, limbs in a mangled arrangement, as if I’ve just been stabbed or run over. I do this backstage, just before someone is exiting or rounding the corner to where I am. The effect is extra great because I’m in period costume–crinoline expsosed, pulled up and messy (perhaps I was violated before my demise), wig hair splayed (yes, I was definitely violated), and red lipsticked mouth agape. I DON’T move. Ever. Even after the initial shock of someone finding me. I hear a quick, inhaled “oh my god”. And then stifled laughs. The best part was when I did it just before the mass exodus to the stage for Act 2. The other two women in the show were the first to find me. And by the time the men and the crew came, the other women had already face-planted and mangled themselves as well, so that we had a trail of ancien régime tears, hair and wigs everywhere. It kind of looked like they had washed ashore from drowning, they looked that dead.
Now that’s a real Halloween treat.
Kate – hahahahahahahahahaha A dead mangled ancien regime body!
Or like a whore slaughtered by Jack the Ripper.
With her luscious cleavage and distracting decadent beauty mark.
And happy birthday to Nathan!!!! I love the story about you going to the hospital and the nurse checking you in had a clown wig and a big red nose.
I told a little girl dressed as Kermit that she could have 2 pieces of candy if she wanted, Jean always get too much. She said “No thank you. I only want one.” She was definetly my favorite.