Halloween!

Woo-hoo! This is the first time since the kids were old enough to trick or treat that neither of them were sick! Not to say that the day was not fraught with drama and suspense ...

First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.

Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --

(Insert dramatic music here)

-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.

"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)

Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"

I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"

Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"

Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.

Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"

"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.

"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.

Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.

Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.

Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)

Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.

The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.

I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.

Ding-dong!

Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"

"No ..."

Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.

We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.

Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"

I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.

Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"

Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)

Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.

Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.

Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."

Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"


All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?

No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.

Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.