Tonight, I took my 10-month old son, Molloy, to a Halloween jack-o'lantern walk at Mrs. Beckett's school.
We went as a fisherman (me), Chef (Mrs.), and lobster (Molloy, in a hand-me down lobster costume). We had a (lobster) pot of candy. The event features a number of stations marked by jack-o'lanterns and manned by pirates, Avengers, and ro-boxes (yes, that is written correctly).
On our way back from the bonfire, I noticed some lanterns and a shadowy figure in a hollow. I brought Molloy in under an arc of shrubs against a corner of the foundation of the school. He goggled at the lanterns' lights but did not see the masked figure three feet from us. I crouched down and the masked figure waved.
She wore a white dog mask. Suddenly, we were in a Kubrick film. She waved silently as I yammered my usual patter at Molloy. That look in his eyes. Fireworks going off all over his brain. Beyond his comprehension, vaguely menacing and irresistible.
I have been chasing that dragon my whole life. When it lives in him it lives in me.
