One of the first costumes I saw Halloween night when I was giving out candy was on an adult; she had a dagger apparently thrust through her head, and blood all over her face. Knives were common; two small children drew sharp-looking knives out of the folds of their costumes as they were saying “trick or treat.” Their knives were very close, and looked very real. I did not flinch.

Many of the adults were dressed up. I wasn’t. However, because I am an elderly lady with a septum piercing, a number of the adults asked me if the piercing was real, so I guess my costume was me. 

For Halloween this year, in fine family tradition, my five-year-old grandchild had a Vision for his costume, and his parent, my adult child, did their level best to realize the Vision. 

In previous years, he didn’t have a lot of say over the process (Paddington, kitty cat). Now, however, he is a whole person with ideas of his own, and he wanted to be an eight-legged spider, with fangs and double eyes. His parent, meanwhile, wanted to spend less than thirty dollars, and also wanted to involve him in the making of the costume. 

They agreed to achieve their Visions together. This required considerable work for both of them, of course, and also required that both of them speak to one another with intense patience and restraint, over a long period of weeks. 

My kid brought the grandchild over last night after they did the trick-or-treat circuit, so that he could show me the final result. The full effect of his costume, complete with a full-head mask, absolutely realized the Vision. He had fangs. He had multiple eyes. His furry arms, connected to one another by elastic, gesticulated in a menacing way, in unison. 

I kept thinking yesterday about another photograph I have. It is of someone else five years old, with a green face and a pointed hat, wearing a witch’s costume made out of Halloween-print fabric. The child is smoothing their wind-blown hair out of their face and looking at the camera with a preoccupied expression, because it is the elementary school Halloween parade, and they were very busy. The photo was taken about thirty-seven years ago. 

I made that witch costume with my own hands. It cost about the same as my grandson’s costume, adjusting for inflation. My kid still remembers that witch outfit, and as a result is still convinced that I am a miracle worker and can make anything. 

There is a short period, when you have children, where both parent and child are collaborating fully on achieving their ambitions, and when a child can be convinced their parent is supremely competent. 

Halloween and five years old is pretty much the whole period. 

Next year he wants to be a dragon that breathes fire. “We’ll see how that works out,” says my kid.