This kid is enamored by all things Halloween. We walk into a room filled with witches and zombies with glowing eyes and white-out contacts and eerie music playing and the other kids run. My kid? The one who assumes the fetal position if someone he doesn't know -- usually a mild-mannered elderly woman in the grocery store -- says hello to him? He's all "so spooky!" with a big smile on his face and asking if he can touch the skeletons. "Maybe he's into macabre," said the creepy cashier at Michael's as Ethan put four different skeletons on the counter.
I like to think he's just getting this whole holiday thing for the first time. If only he could figure out the "trick or treat" thing. This is a con with having a kid who doesn't know what the word candy means yet -- he doesn't understand why mommy wants him to say those magical words and grab the chocolate bar the nice lady in the witch hat is offering. "Snacks at home," he assures me, passing the table by on a quest to find more skeletons. Yeah, kid. You win.
His costume is infinitely less popular than last year's, but when people get it, they really get it. Our baristas at Starbucks recognized him right away while my dad looked at me, confused, trying to figure out how Ethan could possibly be The Piano Man when he looked like Eddie Muenster. Minus ten hipster points for you, dad. Either way, we were at a Halloween party this morning and another one across town tonight and he was recognized in passing by one of the vendors. You know, all "hey, there's that Billie Joe kid again." Guilty as charged. But, you guys, this kid loves Halloween. I've never seen him so freaking happy and so I'll gladly keep reapplying his eyeliner, straightening his tie and letting him make his Halloween party rounds. I'm mostly concerned for his emotional stability once Target stops becoming "the Halloween store, with the skeletons and pumpkins" and becomes just Target again.