As my boys have grown past the age of trick-or-treating, I thought I would share an old story from 2000, when Elder was four and Younger one…
My husband and I found the boys’ costumes more than a month ago. Elder tried on his Tigger costume immediately. He jumped a few times. Glanced over his shoulder at his tail. Sat down. Stood up. Tugged on his tail. Sat down. Stood up.
“Mom,” he called, padding over to me. “Fix my tail so I can bounce like Tigger.”
So, I explained to his great disappointment that it was just a costume and Tigger was a cartoon, and we put the costumes away for a month. A month for a four-year-old is a very long time. And last night he was very excited to put on his Tigger costume again.
Younger was a little more doubtful about the whole experience. His costume was Pooh dressed like a bumblebee, and the extra padding on the front messed with his balance. He fell on his diapered butt in his grandparents’ driveway and was stuck until Mommy offered a hand.
When we stopped at the house beside a local church, the pastor was sitting on a bench in the front yard. As Elder emerged from the car, he said, “Well, it’s Tigger.”
Elder responded a layer of disgust at Pastor’s naiveté coating his voice, “I’m not Tigger. It’s just a costume.”
Pastor then asked if Elder could jump like Tigger. I requested that we not go there.
By a little after seven, we were in the house enjoying the fruits of Elder’s labor. A little after seven-thirty, I was cleaning candy corn out of our bathroom sink and explaining to Elder that the next time he wanted to add water to any container holding candy, he should please question Mommy or Daddy on the advisability of such an endeavor.
Elder has already asked if we can continue Halloween to today. I told him we had to wait until next year.
For a little boy who could hardly wait the month, a year is interminable.
For Mommy, a year sounds a little too close to tomorrow.