The Asparagus Costume
I am not what you would call an artsy-craftsy mom. I can follow directions that are given to me but I don’t have a lot of creativity when it comes to doing art projects.
Halloween was rapidly approaching and my three-and-a-half-year-old son, John, was old enough to really get into the spirit of the whole thing. Even though he had gone trick or treating before, he had really not participated in the selection of his costume. He had been too young to care and was happy with whatever I bought for him.
This year was different. He had very definite opinions and he knew just what he wanted to be. An asparagus! An asparagus? Where in the world did that idea come from? We had never even seen a costume like that in the stores and with my sewing abilities I certainly wouldn’t – or rather I couldn’t – sew one for him. What was a mother to do?
I had the perfect solution. I would convince him he wanted to be a monster for Halloween. Monsters I could do. I would dress him all in black, slick down his hair and make up his face. Oh, would I make up his face! There would be no sewing involved, and that’s a good thing.
Being the thoughtful person that he is, and since we couldn’t find any asparagus costumes, he agreed to be a monster. But, he wanted to be “the scariest monster in the whole wide world.” I told him not to worry and that I would take care of everything.
A few hours before dark on Halloween, the transformation from boy to monster began. I sat on a small chair in the bathroom so we were at the same level, looking eye to eye. I got all of the makeup out of my drawer, lots and lots of half-used cosmetics that for some reason I’d never thrown out. When they were all mixed together, the concoction became wonderful monster make up. And so I got to work.
John had his back to the mirror while the transformation took place. He practiced making appropriate monster noises so he would be ready when we hit the streets to trick or treat. I slathered his beautiful little face with all kinds of goo. When I was finished, hit was bluish purple with scars, gashes, gouges and blood from his forehead to his chin. There was not a speck of skin showing. The scariest of all were his eyes. They were really hideous. I must say I was really pleased with the results. I had thoughts right then and there of giving up being a stay at home mom and becoming a professional make up artist.
It was now it was time to show John the results of my artistic abilities. I knew he would be delighted and impressed to see his goal of being “the scariest monster in the whole wide world” achieved. I turned him around slowly telling him to keep his eyes closed until he was facing the mirror. Then I told him to open his eyes. He did. He screeeeeeamed! So loud he could be heard all over the neighborhood! I had done such a fabulous job that he was scared of himself! Not knowing who that monster was in the mirror, he couldn’t stand to look at himself and he started to cry. Loud.
Being the sensitive mother that I am, I started to laugh. I tried to explain to him that there was no need to be afraid. The face in the mirror was John and that beneath all of that glop was still that sweet, loving little boy. Well, he would have none of that explanation. So, I turned him around, hugged him and spent the next ten minutes wiping his face clean of all traces of that monster and drying his tears.
When he was back to being John, I turned him around again. He kept his eyes closed but I finally convinced him to open them. His smile said it all. He was back. The monster was gone. He was happy.
We did go out for Halloween that night. I slicked back his hair and put just enough dots of blue eye shadow on his face to satisfy him but not enough to cover up his face and make him unrecognizable. We were not exactly sure what he was supposed to be – maybe the blue dot monster – but at least he didn’t scare himself.
Where was that asparagus costume when I needed it?
Reprinted by permission of Barbara LoMonaco (c) 2005 from Chicken Soup for the Mother and Son Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, LeAnn Thieman and Barbara LoMonaco. In order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent. All rights reserved.
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