halloween, schmalloween

Halloween is probably my least favorite holiday.

It used to be ok; when you were really young, you wore the plastic mask with the sharp edges and the eyes cut out, with the snappy elastic loop on the back, coupled with a plastic barbershop smock printed with your favorite TV or movie character of the day.

Later you could dress up as something lame, like a hobo or a hippie or a housewife with mom's curlers in your hair. There were no curfews back then, and you didn't want to go out until after dusk anyway. It wasn't cool.

You could go to everyone's house--nobody was off-limits, not even the single, middle-age scary guy in the apartment building nearby. Back then, you got full-size candy bars, and you collected them in an old pillowcase. Your favorite house was where they gave out apple cider and doughnuts.

You tossed the apples. Some things don't change.

Today, of course, it's a different story. Kids are on the street shortly after school lets out, paranoid parents trailing behind, and police sweep the streets at 8 pm like it's Baghdad, shooing them home. (In our neighborhood, smart parents walk around with a wagon of ready-made cocktails, and one guy sets up a bar in the front yard for the grown-ups.)

But it's the violent nature of Halloween these days that has turned me off the holiday. Halloween is supposed to be eerie...spooky...scary. Not violent and bloody and disgusting. What's scary is the unknown, not the obvious. Is it really necessary to wear a costume in which rubber pick-axe has been shoved through the eye? Does your exposed rubber brain really have to be eaten up by maggots?

I guess after years of hearing about my distaste for Halloween, my boys have picked up on the vibe, and generally don't want to wear violent/scary costumes. But this year, I think they may have gone too far in the wrong direction.

J, the youngest, wants to be a mime. You know, an embarrassing French mime, with the whiteface, red striped shirt and a BERET, for godsakes. He might as well just wear a neon sign that says MOCK ME,THEN STEAL MY CANDY.

E wants to be a can of Chef Boyardee spaghetti. I can't even convince him to have fun with it, perhaps calling it "Chef Boo-yardee Spaghetti and Eyeballs." Nope. I'm currently painting his big body-sized can. He even wants the nutrition information on the back. Gee, why not get a friend to be a side salad?

Sometimes, you just teach your kids TOO well.