As a child, I usually had my Halloween costume figured out by August 15. Concept in place, I planned for scenarios such as weather, party v. trick or treating and style. While at the time we nagged our mother for the fancy pre-made costumes, by October 31, we were more or less garbed in the genuine articles: real referee uniforms from my dad; costume jewelry and scarves from my grandma; 70s fabulousness, including the coveted silver sandals, from my mom.
Style, however, bit me in the ass one year when my teen aged cousins Nancy and Gina took us girls on a 10-block-quadrant candy marathon. Instead of the traditional pillowcase, I took a stylish, though limiting, plastic pumpkin. While my sisters' cases bulged with chocolatey goodness, I struggled to stash candy in my overflowing Laura Ingalls skirt pockets as the pumpkin could hold no more.
Perhaps my first lesson in form following function.
I looked forward to planning for Will this year. Previous holidays, he was more or less oblivious to his charms and what he was wearing, so Will was at my will. First year he was a sweet little knitted tiger; the second year he was Godzilla, inspired by his "rawrrrr" and a 50% off costume at K Mart.
Because he is still so small, I thought I could get away with the Godzilla costume for one more year. That was plan A. Plan B was in case of warmer weather: Magnum PI in a Tigers hat, Hawaiian shirt, fake mustache with a Porsche matchbox car.
Godzilla... he loved the beanie and put the booties on straightaway. The crunchy body of the costume freaked him out and he turned to temper tantrums and me to pleading, compromising and screaming before we both gave up, exhausted, with a glint of hate in each other's eye.
So that was out.
Plan B, well, I wouldn't know a Porsche matchbox car from a Audi Roadster. Also, not-so-little Mr. Growth Spurt succeeded in growing out of both his Tigers hat and his Hawaiian shirt.
So that was out as well.
Mama had to dig into her bag of tricks (and closet) at the 11th hour to figure out how Will was going to have a legitimate Halloween experience without reducing him to the surly teen-equivalent who shows up with a garbage bag and t-shirt emblazoned with a snarky "this is my Halloween costume".
A batting helmet! Baseball jersey! Mitt! Bat! Ball! Alas, form following baseball player function failure: while wearing a too-big helmet and jersey is cute, it is completely impractical for the physical demands of ToTing.
Luckily, he had a fireman's hat and a onesie with a Dalmatian driving a truck. I found a pair of Monsters Inc. track pants with reflective bits for the bottoms. A puffy vest turned inside out revealed the perfect red. But he was lacking the finer details and accessories.
This called for a trip to the dollar store. I love that place, and to prove it, I walked in and the first thing I laid eyes on was a fireman set, with a fire chief whistle, badge, ax and crowbar. Best dollar I ever spent.
Dave and I took him to a few neighborhoods, including a lovely subdivision where our friends the Fishes live. We were greeted by dogs, a Captain America, a statue of David dressed as Harpo Marx, goofy graveyards, parents half in the bag from beer and pizza, and lots of candy.
We did enough houses, no more than a dozen, to legitimately say he went trick or treating. The weather was perfect, we had fun as a family, and well, I was so happy to see kids and families out having fun on this most glorious day of make-believe that I practically burst.
My little firefighting hero was most definitely form following function.
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