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Jeff's Life
Archive
Jeff Stimpson, 39, has been a working journalist for 15 years. He lives in New York with his wife Jill and sons Alex, 3, and Edwin, four months. He maintains a site of essays, Jeff's Life, at:
JEFF'S LIFE
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Monthly Column... |
by
Jeff Stimpson
The Sunday before Halloween, I'm even sicker than normal of another rerun of "CinderElmo" and I decide it's time Alex and Ned broaden their horizons. I reach for the orange video box on my bookshelf. "Now this isn't Elmo," I warn them, mostly Alex.
I fast-forward through the coming attractions until I finally get Lucy and Linus emerging from their house. The boys watch in silence as the cartoon siblings walk to the pumpkin patch. As Linus starts rolling the giant pumpkin home and the music kicks in, Ned is staring with a drop of drool on his lip. Alex twitches into a small smile. The music gets stronger. Dadada-DUM, dadadadadadada-DUM, dadadada, do dooo...
I'm a dad. It's Halloween, and I know what to do. "It's Charlie Brown!" I tell them. Either Ned needs a diaper change or he's starting to dance. Dadada-DUM! I pretend to play the piano across Alex's chest and back, and he laughs. By the last "da," they're both pretending to play the piano themselves. When the ghosts and black cats appear to scare the trick-or-treaters, I make elaborate scary noises. Ned says, "Ooooooo." Then he goes, "Whoooo" when the owl flies into the camera. This is parenthood.
This is going to be their first real Halloween. Alex was sick last year. Ned was still kind of a blob. This year, we've got a cape for Alex and a kitty suit for Ned, with ears. Neither boy can say, "Trick or treat!", but we've been working on Ned's meow. Alex hates the cape ("Have Jeff try it on," grandma advises, "have Elmo try it on."). Last night, Jill was sampling lipsticks to fix what color would look most like blood on Alex's chin. This afternoon, I added a little plastic bat to pin to Alex's shirt.
This is going to be Halloween.
On the afternoon of the 31st, I run Alex's cape and some treats over to his school, where they will be trick-or-treating classroom to classroom. I find Alex over his morning snack. He keeps shrugging off the cape -- even though Elmo did model it -- and I try to slip a little pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He's also wearing his black, white, and orange sweater. Someone hands us a plastic jack-o-lantern (Alex quickly drops the sunglasses in it), and I've been drafted for trick-or-treating. Alex and I join the rest of his class (a clown, a fireman, a princess, a tiger), and the teachers, and go from doorway to doorway.
The halls are crowded with other classes. Some doorways are draped with orange and black crepe paper. Alex spends a lot of the event staring at the ceiling and turning his body from side to side. He follows the teachers sort of out of habit. When we pose for pictures, he doesn't look at the camera. The school nurse, other teachers, and therapists drop candy into the buckets. Alex says "thank you" when I prompt him.
People drop in chocolate, gum, a little tissue-paper lollypop ghost. Nobody drops in a rock. "Do we have any allergies?" one teacher asks in a doorway, reaching into her bucket of candy. "No," I reply. "Alex's mother and I have no allergies to candy."
At quarter to five that afternoon, Jill calls to say Alex has a raging fever. I rush home with memories of last Halloween, and find him happily watching Elmo. Ned is already bedecked in his cat costume; some of Jill's playdate friends and their little pirate have also joined us.
"Alex?" I call. "Cape?" No way. He shrugs it off. Ditto the bat.
"Jill has been happy all afternoon," our babysitter says. "She should have a holiday like this every day."
We set out with a kitty and a pirate, and with me in the cape. Alex is wearing dark pants and a black Old Navy T shirt. At every door, I explain that his costume is that of a little boy who won't wear his cape. Ned wants to go into every apartment. Instead of "trick-or-treat," we get him to meow. The boys carry plastic jack-o-lanterns. Mostly, Jill and I carry them. Little candies hit the bottom with a plunk. Ned soon finds the red licorice stick and gets started on his first cavity.
We return home about 6:20, having hit about half a dozen floors of our building. It's bedtime for the pirate, and the boys have to get a last bit of video before bath and bed.
Ned hoots again at the owl. Alex busts a gut when Lucy pulls the football from Charlie Brown. Dadada-DUM. It's been Halloween. And tomorrow, when it's November and the spooky decorations suddenly look morbid, another tape will be waiting on the bookshelf. In a couple of months, you'll find out what Christmas is all about, Alex and Ned.
Copyright 2001 Jeff Stimpson, all rights reserved
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