Vinaigrettes — Spooked, chocolate-dipped, and tucked into bed
“NO MAMA, I WILL NOT WEAR LEGGINGS UNDER MY DOROTHY COSTUME!!”
“Doodle, it’s not a choice. If you want to wear this to school and be in the parade you must wear these leggings. That’s it, no more discussion.”
I ram pink leggings up her calves. She sobs. I run to grab the hairbrush.
“Where’s Ren?” I ask, when I come back — just seconds before I notice the little pile of pink leggings on the floor.
“She’s hiding behind the couch,” Mare says. “She’s afraid you’ll be mad at her.”
Well she’d be goddamned right about –
“Okay, go grab your coat and shoes.”
I run upstairs and pick out a pair of pants and sweatshirt I know Renny will hate. I go behind the couch and pick her up. I pull the Dorothy dress off her, pull the sweatshirt down over her head. She doesn’t resist.
I’m disquieted.
I load her into the car, the Dorothy costume in a bag at her feat. She goes into her class without protest.
I eye her like she’s a suspiciously real-looking scarecrow on Halloween.
“Okay,” I tell her teacher. “Ren cannot wear this costume without the leggings. She must wear them. She can be in the parade in her regular clothes and carry Toto, but no leggings no dress.”
Ren is eerily silent, and I have the oddest feeling I’ve been outsmarted.
The Halloween Parade. One of my favorite annual events at Happy Progressive Smiles. The Doodle’s class is near the front. She trots toward me, Dorothied out, carrying her Toto basket, big bow on her head, shit-eating grin on her face.
Not a legging in sight.
“Dat was a great parade Momma.”
“It was Sweatheart.”
“Dere were lots of Dorothys!”
“There were. But you were my favorite.” She smiles contentedly.
“Baby. I noticed you weren’t wearing your leggings.” Her face falls.
“I’m very very sorry ’bout dat.”
“Yes, well –”
“Very. Sorry.”
“Ren, what did Momma want you to do with the leggings? — Remember never to lie to Momma.”
“You wanted me to wear them.”
“And you knew that and decided not to wear them because I wasn’t there.” And you knew for sure you could sweet-talk your teacher out of it.
“Yes. And I am so so sorry, Momma.”
“I am disappointed. You know that you’re supposed to do what Momma says, even when I am not there. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, you do what you know I want you to do.”
“I so sorry. Really. I’m serious.”
Ellie, her husband and kids and Miss Sunbeam are joining us for dinner and trick or treating. I’ve roasted two chickens, made garlicky green beans, mashed potatoes, squash. A little mushroom gravy. We’re drinking sparkling apple cider and listening to the Halloween CD. The kids in their costumes are giddy.
We all fit around my table, and suddenly I am astonished that this is the life Cute Husband and I have made, this little house, this family that thrives.
Little one kicks me then, and I laugh.
“I hear you, I hear you.” We are each other’s little secret, the company in my skin, and I know enough to enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough this little person will belong to the wider world, seated at my table eating green beans and slurping milk and asking “How many more bites until I can go trick-or-treating?”
“That kid wears leggings or she doesn’t go trick-or-treating,” I say. It is significantly warmer than it was this morning, and I don’t really think she needs them.
But she’s going to wear them.
“Um … noo …” the Doodle says. I excuse myself. Even when I win, I spare a kid’s dignity.
Especially when I win.
“You can wear them and go trick-or-treating,” Miss Sunbeam says, “Or you can stay home.” I am at the sink, doing dishes. I can feel Ren’s glare boring into me. I ignore it, and Doodle steps into the leggings.
I dry my hands and pass her Toto.
“Time to go trick-or-treating!” I grin.
“Not yet,” she says, stepping into her snow boots. Which do, I suppose, go better with leggings than ruby-reds do.
You gotta love her spirit. Most days.
“Trick or treaaaaat!!!”
Mrs. Veritas grins wildly at the sight of my girls.
“Help yourselves!!” she says, but they’re already digging through the basket, and the little plates of treats on the table … oh, and the jar of candy corn. And the little dish of gummy spiders.
“Have anything you want!” Mrs. Veritas says. She clearly is getting ready for a little party of her own, and my children have made a signficant dent into her treats. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Doodle steps forward in her little outfit and looks up adoringly at Mrs. Veritas.
“Yes,” she says.
“What, sweetheart?”
“Well,” Renny pauses, thinking. “I would really like to have something really special.”
“Do you have any jewelry?” I pipe up. “Stocks? Bonds?”
“I know!!” Mrs. Veritas says. She reaches into her cabinet and hands each of them some individually wrapped Hostess cake confection. The both squeal wildly and at that point, it’s time to go.
Miss Sunbeam takes them trick-or-treating in her neighborhood. Cute Husband and I step out for a short date. I’m not hungry — and I’m not drinking — so I sip water and watch Cute Husband polish off a martini. One of those frosty ones with ice on the top. And two little olives. We pick at a cannoli.
We get home and Sunbeam arrives with the children passed out in their carseats — she and Cute Husband carry them to bed.
Sunbeam departs for a party in a cape and hairy-nose-glasses.
We park on the couch with the girl’s candy between us and put in Silence of the Lambs.
Cute Husband has lighted the pumpkins in the fireplace — A Daddy pun’kin, a Momma pun’kin, a Mary pun’kin, a Doodle pun’kin … and a little baby pun’kin. The last they carved together. It has a little spooky baby face.
I’d post pictures for you, but I’m too busy enjoying it.
November 1st, 2008 at 7:54 am
Ahhhh! The perfect pumpkin family!!
That Ren just cracks me up! Such spunk!
November 1st, 2008 at 7:57 am
Ps
I watched Silence of the Lambs one year on Halloween and it scared the sh*t out of me! It seems to be extra scary and freaky on Halloween.
November 1st, 2008 at 10:02 am
Everyone told me that my 3rd better be a boy because my 2nd is so “Ren-ish” and a boy would be better able to handle her. Number 3 is a girl - and she is so sweet - and yet she can handle number 2 just fine! I’m secretly hoping your number 3 is a girl!!
November 1st, 2008 at 1:26 pm
I love Ren, OMG I love Ren. I wish she’d come teach someone I live with about the true art of being stubborn. Sigh.
November 2nd, 2008 at 10:08 pm
You give me hope, Liz. Thank you.
November 3rd, 2008 at 4:16 am
Ahhhhhh…..how I do miss Halloween over here….it may be crass commercialism at it’s best but it’s nights like yours that I miss….fun, food (especially the sugary kind!) and dress up….and pumpkins tall enough to hollow out and carve, not flat and just to eat….live it up & enjoy!
November 3rd, 2008 at 12:18 pm
Ah the highs and lows of a three year old with more personality than anyone can handle. Know it well. We had similar costume battles on Friday, but all was erased by the little fairy running through the neighborhood shouting THIS IS THE BEST HALLOWEEN — EVVERRR!!! after every house.
Now if we could just get that candy out of the house…
November 3rd, 2008 at 12:24 pm
How nice New England must be. Here in Arizona, we have the opposite battles.
Boo wanted to be a bear, but he couldn’t because it’s still 90 degrees, too hot! So he settled for Superman, but wouldn’t wear his clothes underneath, only his Buzz Lightyear undies.
“It’s soooooo hot, Mama!”
November 3rd, 2008 at 1:33 pm
So cute… We had the same struggle with our own Dorothy with getting her to wear her shirt underneath the dress. Sigh… In the end, the promise of massive amounts of sugar won her over.
Also, I have to say, it’s so lovely to hear about where you’re at with 2+bun… I remember those days and it’s a really nice place to be. You’ll love life with three little crazies…
November 3rd, 2008 at 1:34 pm
So cute… We had the same struggle with our own Dorothy with getting her to wear her shirt underneath the dress. Sigh… In the end, the promise of massive amounts of sugar won her over.
Also, I have to say, it’s so lovely to hear about where you’re at with 2+bun… I remember those days and it’s a really nice place to be. You’ll love life with three little crazies…