Halloween started weeks ago at the sewing machine. After putting together an ill-fitting and slightly shabby vampire costume for Zenny (which she likes anyway, because she's kind), I spent a week quilting a gambeson for Leif to go under his armor. Which was real. I warned him that real armor is heavy and uncomfortable, but the boy had his mind made up, and he earned the money himself with his after-school job, so why the hell not? He will have responsibilities and bills and groceries for the entire rest of his life, but he will never be 15 in a full suit of armor again. And maybe buyer's remorse is an important lesson to learn before you're old enough to blow all your money on a sports car that can't clear a speed bump or hold a car seat.
On Saturday, the last stitches on the padding went in, and we got in costume for the annual spooky train ride at the historical train society in Ewa. Kids screamed and ran from Leif. One pointed and got excited, "That's the knight from last year!" Different costume, but pretty cool that he's become part of this child's holiday memories. Last year the theme was Hawaiian ghost stories, but this year - probably owing to a lack of historic Hawaiian costumes at Party City - the theme was fairy tales, and we rattled through the industrial yards listening to a teenage narrator tell very fast stories over an old buzzing speaker system while children reenacted the scenes in the grass beside the train tracks as we passed by.
On Halloween, we threw the costumes, jack-o-lantern, and boxes of armor into the trunk of the car and drove over to my mother’s house for trick-or-treating. Her elderly cat ate the brie off of the cheese platter while we got ourselves in character. The cousins showed up solo, because my aunt is in Arizona caring for grandpa and left them to survive on their own for a few months (they’re 21 and 16, it’s okay). Leif began struggling into his armor, already sweating. After an hour of buckling and adjusting, he clanked down the street with us, looked at the giant hill we had to walk up, and stopped. If you have never seen a knight in full armor and helmet that looks as if it’s about to cry, I am here to tell you it looks exactly like you’d imagine. I sent the girl ahead with her cousins and walked the knight home.
“Take the heavy stuff off and just wear the top part and undergarments,” I said. “Or you can wear the hot dog costume I brought as a backup.”
He shook his head and trudged inside, dejected. I left him with his dad and granny to hand out candy, picked up my gnome skirts, and ran to catch up with the kids before my younger cousin could get into trouble with a drunk homeowner over being a 6’2” trick-or-treater.
By 8:30pm we were collapsed around the candy piles and Leif had cooled off enough to eat some pumpkin cheesecake while we watched BBC Ghosts. Poor guy. He’s down to his last two Halloweens before college, so next year we’ve got some making up to do.
He still looked good, though.
Nobody knows what a garden gnome is around here. “German… beer… princess?” Close enough. Hard to see in photo: I had on a 2 foot-tall pointed hat.
Giant cousins
Now if it will just cool down and get under 80 degrees, I’ll feel like making Thanksgiving happen.
When your kids grow up, they're going to say, "I had the BEST mom in the world."
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