Heads in the hay
It’s just November 1, still time to give Halloween its due.
’Twas a lovely, though chilly night. My husband, our daughter and her dear old dog sat on our porch steps, candy at the ready.
Our house sits at the top of the block, and several neighbors on both sides of the street were not open for Halloween business this year. It seems many trick-or-treaters saw the darkened houses and decided not to venture our way.
Still, we had some memorable moments.
A little Buzz Lightyear stopped with his parents.
His dad spotted the two skeleton heads* sprouting from a pile of hay on our lawn.
“Hey, what are these?” he asked Buzz, pointing.
In the way of a barely 3-year-old confronted with strangers … in the dark … offering candy …. he looked a bit puzzled and stayed silent.
Eventually we heard him whisper, “kulls.”
His mom said he usually calls them X-rays.
He's not far off.
Later a fairy princess arrived and looked down at the two bowls of candy I held out.
“I want a lollipop like this one,” she said directly, holding one up so I would know exactly what she meant.
“Oh, I don’t think I have any of those,” I said, as she gently rummaged through our chocolate.
Her father leaned over and covertly dropped in a lollipop.
“Oh, look, here’s one!” he said.
Way to think on your feet, Dad!
It reminded me of the time I forgot to leave money from the tooth fairy under our daughter’s pillow.
The details are a bit foggy, but I know I did a mental head-slap in the morning and hurried to her room with a few coins.
(Not sure what the going rate for loose teeth is these days, but our fairy left coins, not bills.)
She had discovered the emptiness under her pillow, and I reassured her that the money must have fallen off the bed or gotten lost in the covers.
We searched. I reached over the head of her bed and brought up the coins. Voila! The tooth fairy’s treasure was found.
Last night I texted her to ask what she remembered. Seems the details are a bit foggy for her, too, but I love her reply:
“You must’ve been so smooth fixing it that it didn’t leave a lasting mark.”
Whew. And if I say so myself, “Good save!”
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* The skull in back has a history going back at least 60 years. Every Halloween, our mom set it on the wooden spiral at the bottom of the banister.
(Word I just learned: Volute … the technical term for that spiral.)
I loved our house at Halloween. I can still see that smiling skull, the almost life-size witch decorating the front door, the dancing cardboard pumpkin on the living room mirror, the little ghost candles on the kitchen shelves, and, of course, the jagged-tooth jack-o’-lantern our dad carved every year, complete with a hole in back just large enough for the light bulb that made it glow.
