Halloween Horrors

Two nights ago, Gwen went to a Halloween party held by one of her fellow students. When I dropped her off, I noticed that there were about forty or fifty kids there already, and more cars pulling up, so I asked the parents if they needed help. They insisted they were fine, Gwen insisted that I stay, so I stayed. I don't know why, but after an initial foray into the basement on her own, Gwen seemed to have little interest in doing anything except sitting on my lap. Now, admittedly, she may have been hot from her Halloween costume (an Iguanadon costume made from a sweatsuit.) Maybe it was the shift out of daylight savings time. The thought even crossed my mind that she might be plain old bored -- most of my parties have activities scheduled from start to finish, and this was more free-form. This last theory may hold the most water because she did ask after we had been there for half an hour, "When is the party starting?"

Anyway, she just seemed tireder and more bored and finally, as she lay limply on my lap, I said, "Honey, would you like to go home?" We were still an hour from the supposed party end (heck, people were still arriving), and just when I thought she might agree, someone said the magic word: pinata.

I have never seen anyone come back from the dead so fast. She practically fell down the stairs in her haste to get to the basement level of the back deck. She didn't want to swing at the pinata ("How can I hold my bag if I am holding onto the stick?") but once the paper ghost did break, she was right in the thick of it, elbowing much bigger kids out of her way.

When the chaos was over, she came running up to me and shouted, "Mommy! Mommy! I got toys, and candy, and I filled my whole bag! LET'S GO HOME!"

So we did.


Last night, our Karate school had Halloween parties in lieu of typical classes. Xavier had a pretty good cough going, but I figured that since it was supposed to be a "slow" class, maybe he would take it easy. Evidently I had not had enough coffee yesterday, because there is no such thing as a "slow" anything where Xavier is involved.

In any event, a good time was had by all, and as I was leaving, I jested to the instructor (or, as Xavier calls him, "Constructor"), "Sure, we'll be spending the night in the emergency room, but it was worth it!"

So, four hours later, in the emergency room, Xavier was gasping for breath, and we learned that even though the ER at our local hospital is even busier on a Halloween Monday than on an April Friday, you get ported through much faster if your kid is coughing on everybody. (Seriously, in April we were there for five hours, while last night it was a simple three.) Even though he could barely breathe and he threw up in a garbage can, Xavier was still a charmer, and the nurses and the doctors all wanted to take him home. He even charmed the folks on the other side of the curtain that partitioned the Observation Room we were in, and they couldn't even see him.

Anyway, he wasn't a whole lot better today, so Adam got to go on a quest for a nebulizer that was covered by my insurance. The pediatrician says that this may be a precursor for asthma, but it is too soon to tell, and that, along with the two hours of sleep I managed to squeeze in last night, kind of put a damper on the Halloween festivities. Luckily, the kids didn't know the difference.

Even though Xavier was not allowed to go Trick or Treating, I would have had to tie him down to keep him from running to the door every time the doorbell rang. Usually Gwen was right behind him, announcing, "Mommy! Mommy! Someone is here!" as if the three or four doorbell rings per customer was below my level of hearing. Then, treats in hand, as the visitors would be turning away, Gwen would call, "Have a Happy Halloween! Don't get sick!" This did net her a lot of quizzical glances, and toward the end of the evening, I began to think maybe we should rename our home "The House O' Croup and Plague." The kids insisted on eating dinner an hour early so they could get their costumes on (yes, grandparents, there are pictures.)

Adam got home at seven o'clock and took Miranda off trick or treating. After an initial plea that both parents stay home with him, Xavier was pretty content to "trick or treat" from our own stockpile, and we watched the rest of the Nightmare Before Christmas. When the movie ended, feeling a little sorry for the boy, I said, "Sweetie, would you like to walk with me out to the curb and see how our house looks?" I hoisted him up, we opened the door, and we were not halfway across the yard when our attention was arrested by a blood-curdling scream. Looking across our neighbors yard, we saw a pink Iguanadon with baby blue trim running across the driveway clutching a satchel of candy in one hand, the back of her tail with the other, screaming, "Potty! I NEED TO GO POTTY!" A few steps behind her, of course, was my husband. (And, yes, Gwen did pick the colors for her costume.)

Well, with luck, tonight will be a quiet one. Wish me luck -- I was tired enough that I forgot to drink my coffee (twice) today. And another short night might even try Xavier's sunny disposition.