Hero-ween

Okay, I admit, I’ve been negligent in posting lately. I could make all kinds of excuses, and you’d probably cut me some slack. Something like The Project From Hell reared its ugly head at work, or Chris has been sick, or the dog I don’t have ate the homework I didn’t do. You’re a pretty good group, I’m sure you’d be understanding about it.

But I respect you too much to lie to you. The truth, in fact, is far uglier.

So ugly, I’m ashamed to admit it.

But I try to set a good example for my kids, about doing the right thing, not the easy thing. About telling the truth, even when the truth hurts. About being a stand up guy. And I believe in setting a good example, even though Chris and Tommy no nothing of this blog, and wouldn’t know (or care) if I tried to put one over on you.

So here it is. The reason I haven’t posted lately has been Halloween anxiety.

Yup, you read right. Halloween anxiety.

It happens every year. About a week or so before the dreaded day (and night) I start to get nervous. Sweaty palms, chills. As the day gets closer it gets worse. Come October 30th I can barely function. I don’t want to get out of bed. The fear is too strong.

It bothered me so much I’ve been unable to even consider putting together a reasonably coherent post.

But get out of bed I do, and shake and tremble all day. Halloween day is terrible, as with every passing hour the moment I dread most of all closes in on me.

Going outside that night among the ghouls and goblins.

I can hear you right now, laughing your heads off. Family Man, scared of kids in costumes? You’ve got to be kidding me!

Would that I were, my friend. Would that I were.

Look, I’m not proud of it. But for some reason it really creeps me out to see all these people dressed up as slashers, monsters, night-of-the-living-dead creatures, aliens and other assorted freaks of nature. All hopped up on massive sugar highs. To be out among them. In the dark. Knowing they are Looking For Me.

I want my mommy.

So it was with great trepidation that I prepared myself to take Chris and Tommy trick or treating.

Of course, they have been looking forward to it for weeks. Deciding what costumes to wear, planning their trick or treat route through our neighborhood, gleefully dreaming of all the sweets and treats they would receive.

Chris would go to a Halloween party in his Kindergarten class that afternoon, and since MBW is his teacher, Tommy got to go as well. For this party Chris had chosen a dragon costume; Tommy selected a bear costume. Fierce carnivores. How appropriate.

So I assumed that is what they would be dressed as that evening.

As soon as I arrived home from work Halloween night I began negotiating with MBW to see if she would take the boys out and I could stay home to hand out the candy to the creeps who would visit our house. But she knows me well enough to know that as soon as she was out the door with the boys, I would turn out the lights in the house, lock the doors and hide under the covers, giving no candy to anyone. The answer was a resounding ‘NO.’ I was told, in no uncertain terms, to suck it up and take our sons trick or treating.

Defeated, resigned to my fate, I waited while MBW finished getting the boys costumes on. I heard them upstairs, getting ready. I fully expected to see a dragon and bear walk down the stairs, plastic pumpkin buckets in hand, ready for fun.

To my surprise and great relief, instead of Chris and Tommy, Superman and Batman came down the stairs!

They fixed me with steely glares, the type of glare that brooked no challenge. “Let’s go,’ Batman growled. “It’s time for trick or treating.”

Oh, my prayers were answered. No need to fear anything tonight, not in the company of two of the greatest superheroes ever to grace the planet. I would be safe tonight!

Superman and Batman had visited our house before, of course. Perhaps you read about our trip to the hardware store earlier this year. But it has been awhile since they had paid us a visit.

The timing could not have been better.

So out we strode into that dark and spooky night, scared no more. With a swagger I could not have imagined just 30 minutes before, we walked from house to house, ringing doorbells and rapping door knockers, taking the treats that were rightfully ours. Ghosts, slashers and other assorted evil flotsam fled before us, skulking away, as we made our way through the neighborhood. Homeowners up and down our street gratefully paid protective tribute in the form of sugar for the protection these two sentinels of safety offered.

Once, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vampickle slip around a corner, running away in fear.

That guy is such a wimp.

As it turned out, the night I had dreaded actually ended all too quickly. Before I knew it the plastic pumpkins were full of booty. The two superheroes, satisfied with their evenings' work, escorted me back to my home. Into the house we went, and they proceeded upstairs with MBW. I sank gratefully into a chair, whispering a quiet prayer of thanks.

I stood up and prepared to go thank the two superheroes myself. As I reached the top of the stairs, Chris and Tommy appeared.

“Dad, that was so much fun!” Chris said. “I can’t wait until next year!”

Normally, that phrase would have sent a chill up my spine.

Tonight, however, it was different.

“It’s going to be great, Chris,” I said.

Provided the superheroes show up again, it just might be.

It’s great to be The Family Man.