My son disapproved of Halloween costumes as early as Pre-K. However, for his school’s Halloween parade he wore a Batman costume. When his friends called out: “Hi Batman!” He protested repeatedly: “My name is not Batman! My name is Nolan!”
That was the last time he willingly wore a costume, and I was elated. I could cross Halloween and costumes off the list of things I had to do as a mother, but didn’t really enjoy.
I would never have to endure the scramble for the perfect costume again—negotiating what your child desperately wants, what’s weather-appropriate, what needs be found in the costume section of my local Target and, most importantly, what would make me look like a rock-star mom. I was happy being a Halloween-free mommy for several years.
Then, there was my daughter.
If a costume or make-believe was involved, so was she. One day, you might find her acting the part of a Park Slope mom, with a cellphone pressed against her face and a baby doll tied to her body with a makeshift sling, pushing a stroller around the apartment. Another day, she could be dressed as a young and stylish medical doctor with her pink stethoscope to my chest and a white shirt on as her lab coat as she made a grave diagnosis that required lots of yucky medicine, and possibly a shot.
She reveled in all things imaginary play. Didn’t she know that imaginary play was not my territory? If she did, she didn’t care.
Then, at the ripe age of 2, she told me she wanted to be a frog for Halloween…a pink frog! How did she even know about Halloween? We were a very happy Halloween-free home for her entire life. And did she say a pink frog? Do they even have those at Target?
I am a creative woman in my professional life and I enjoy creative pursuits. Why was dress-up and make-believe so challenging for me at home? I believe that with my children, there was a desire to always get it right: the perfect project, the perfect afternoon out, the perfect costume. It became hard to simply be in the moment for fear the outcome would not be one my little people—or I—expected. For me, it takes courage to be silly—to walk around and pretend to be an astronaut, or a doctor, or a princess. These are not things I grew up doing or knowing about in my very beautiful yet staid family.
That year, I grabbed the frog by its leg and was determined to make my daughter the best pink frog costume ever. I used felt and glue guns and made eyes out of Styrofoam balls. All night, I cut and sewed and glued like a designer on Project Runway. When she woke up in the morning, my 2-year-old was elated. She saw a perfect pink frog costume. With her immense imagination, she did not notice that the eyes were lopsided, or that the feet were slightly crooked.
In each of their own ways, my children have allowed me to enjoy—and dare I say love—the process of Halloween. My son still has no desire to dress up, yet, he genuinely enjoys the costume ideas his little sister dreams up and seeing the final product. He knows what it is to encourage, to be a supporter and a true fan.
My daughter decides months in advance what costume we will create each year. She has been a princess, Super Girl, a pirate, Strawberry Shortcake, and an Avenger—Black Widow. Last year, she rocked my world and decided she wanted to be me for Halloween. We wore matching outfits that day. She wore a blazer (I do love a sharp blazer), tall black boots, dark-rimmed glasses, a school ID badge, and carried a camera and rocked a blonde Afro! She took a page from my book and loved me in the loudest and best way she knew how.
I have officially taken the Halloween costume scramble off the list of things this mom hates to do, but check in with me on November 1 because this year, my daughter thinks she wants to be an American girl doll…in the actual box!
verta ayanna is a Harlem mom, writer, and photographer. Her blog is called love out loud. She shares her passion for stories, memories and life at vertaayanna.com.
