The Halloween Fairy Flies Away

                                                                   

A few years ago, when Kiddo was about 3 or 4, enough candy was coming home on Halloween night that I knew it was time to bring in the Halloween Fairy. Years ago, working as a nanny, one family introduced the idea to me-- the kids left out candy for the Halloween Fairy, and she took it in exchange for a gift. But the gift she chose depended on how much of the loot she received: some years there were various toys; one year, one child who held onto most of their candy received a toothbrush. I thought this to be ingenious-- a supernatural being with a wicked sense of humor and fairness, and I knew I wanted to adopt this tradition when I had my own child.

Adopt it, I did. The first year, a pair of maracas were waiting at the kitchen table for Kiddo on November 1st. The following year, I can't even remember what it was. Some memorable ones were a beta fish-- dubbed Fishy O'Gill, a subscription to Catster, and a huge volume of a book on cats, one he'd checked out from the library multiple times. Kiddo was a giver, and thus, so was the Halloween Fairy.

But last year, the Halloween Fairy left a note, telling Kiddo that this year, 2019, would be her last visit. She thanked him for all the wonderful candy she'd received, and let him know that she needed to visit other young children. In short, he was aging out of the program.

I wasn't quite sure how he would respond, but the prospect of candy buy-backs came up and after tonight, I think he's set on doing that instead of waiting for any other holiday sprite to come along and spirit away his haul of sugar. 

If I'm being truly honest, of course there are small pangs of nostalgia for the years that this arrangement really flew. Novelty is a wonderful thing, and childlike suspension of disbelief is not to be taken for granted. It really is a magical world some kids get to live in, and it's so fun for me to open the door to little trick-or-treaters and see them enjoy being all dressed up in fantastical outfits. I don't mind when teenagers come to the door in well-prepared costumes. I think about the time and effort they made in preparing themselves for the Neighborhood Candy March-- some of their outfits took a lot of planning and preparation. I don't care if you are 15, I will give you candy. 

My nephews felt like eschewing trick or treating last year and instead went door to door, knocking and then singing Christmas Carols. These humorous boys created a smart and fun sort of chaos, cracking people up. They went for the laughs, not the candy. Tonight, Kiddo's heading out with some buddies from his Boy Scouts. He's giving an encore presentation one of my very favorite costume pieces ever, a cat mask found on a random shelf at Fred Meyer. I have looked to find another like it, to no avail. This thing has a place of honor in the kitchen, where it hangs up in the archway. J wore it before his online classes for 5th grade, when their video chat was enabled. Together with a new brown trenchcoat and a hood and snake-entwined staff, he's become a Necromancer, but also, a cat. 

I'm hoping that this year is a fun one for him. He sometimes says he plans on staying home and passing out candy in the coming years, but we'll see. There is a specialness about the passage of time, both as we celebrate holidays and as we remember how they have grown and are still growing. We're only at the halfway mark of full brain development, so I'm curious to see what's going to happen next. It's a bit like opening the door tonight-- you never know exactly what the kid on your porch is going to look like, but it'll probably be great. And really cute. Bring on the little bugs, the fairy princesses, the ghouls and storybook characters! Happy Halloween!