The winds and rain of a mighty storm rattled and shook the house this evening, guaranteeing that Halloween would not go according to plan. Little did I realize, however, just how little regard fate had for our holiday aspirations. Follow me, dear reader, if you dare, into the grim darkness of Halloween 2019.
After arriving home from work this evening, I foolishly attempted to put my feet up for two minutes. Woe and despair, it was mere moments before I heard the frantic cries of my wife from the next room.
“Brian! I need you!”
Casting muttered curses into the air, I emerged from the bedroom to find a chilling scene. Miles, who moments earlier had been enjoying a hastily thrown together meal of Cheez-Its and cottage cheese, had discovered an even greater joy than eating could be gleaned from casting the cottage cheese about the living room.
What at first seemed like a simple plan to eat and get dressed up for trick-or-treating had suddenly become more challenging, as a sudden, thorough cleaning of both floor and child was necessary. I set about the former, which Jaclyn retreated into the bathroom with the boy. Alas, I was not deep into my cleansing exercise when Jaclyn’s voice once again called out with an utterance even more chilling than the first.
“Daddy! We’ve got a floater!!”
Miles, of course, was delighted by the development, struggling against his mother to break free and seize one of the brown pellets in his hand. Ordering them both away, I undertook my next task — using an inverted grocery bag to fish for the chunks of baby excrement as the soiled water swirled down the drain.
While it seemed we might never escape from the horrors the night was delivering, we eventually got Miles into his Superman costume and made it out the door. The weather saw to it that a typical door-to-door trick or treat excursion would be fruitless, and so we found an indoor event — specifically at Optimist Hall in NoDa.
The event was understandably busy when we arrived, but we were again dismayed at the sight of a parent, fleeing with her two daughters in tow, calling, “They’re out of candy!” into the night. Unfazed, and with no alternative anyway, we continued inside.
The banshee’s words proved true — there was no candy left within the walls of the what now seemed to be rather dubiously named Optimist Hall. There were, however, many costumed individuals, and Miles’s brain actually appeared to explode at one point.
It also wasn’t long before the good vendors of Optimist Hall retrieved more candy for the trick or treaters. Once the snacks started piling up, Miles truly discovered a love of Halloween.
Brought back from the brink of near catastrophe, Miles’s Halloween was ultimately a success (although, with all this chocolate in his system, it is not yet clear if this will be a success for mom and dad…).
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 