A Medieval Halloween

I learned from others' past experiences that dressing up like a fourteenth-century wench has the curious effect of diminishing one's authority as a medievalist.

It is for this reason that I have largely steered clear of medieval-themed Halloween costumes...until now.

Things dramatically changed when I found a portion of a King Arthur costume in my husband's size at a local party goods store. The outfit was missing a shoulder pad and an elastic boot strap. It also had a large rip in the faux chain mail helmet.

I pointed out all of these deficiencies to the store manager when I asked him for a 50% discount.

"Everyone is going to be a person from the Middle Ages for Halloween this year!" I announced later that evening.

"No way!" cried Cortlen, as he crossed his arms. "I want to be a Transformer again."

"Call yourself whatever you want," I told him, "But you're wearing this knight costume."

I showed my son the costume I had just ordered him on the Internet.

Camber and Kellen accepted their combined fate stoically. "Whatever," my daughter said, flipping her hair. "I'm getting too old for Halloween anyway." Then she marched off to her room to play Barbies.

The only person not okay with wearing a medieval costume was--and still is--my youngest. Cameron's problem has less to do with the adorable/fierce monster costume that Pottery Barn so graciously sent me, but the fact that he isn't interested in any kind of clothing these days.

(on sale now for $34.99!)

Showing him a picture of Grendel (the monster from Beowulf) on the Internet didn't help the cause.




"Ooh! Scary! That's you!" I exclaimed.

Cameron replied by spitting on the costume.

Classy, I know.

"What if I throw in this awesome sword?" I said, producing a large plastic saber from behind my back.

Moderately interested, but still not enough to put on the costume.

Having my children model their costumes after they came in the mail did nothing to encourage my three year-old to put on his.

As a last resort, we decided to practice trick-or-treating.

"Happy Halloween!" I shrieked when he knocked on my bedroom door.

"Icky!" he screamed and threw the piece of candy I had just dropped into his plastic pumpkin bucket.

Evidently, Tootsie Rolls are not his favorite.

With 10 day to go, I'm starting to lose hope. Why can't he just make me happy and wear the stinkin' monster costume?

Last year, I had the cutest alligator costume for him. Which he also refused to wear.

{insert mourning over what might have been}

Earlier this evening, I was at the mall with my daughter, shopping for a baby shower gift.

"Awww," she cooed, fingering a ruffly dress at Gymboree. "Why didn't you ever dress me up in clothes like this when I was little?" By this point she had her hands on her hips.

The mere memory of my daughter as a three year-old gave me the cold shivers.

I regret that I didn't take pictures of the closet full of ruffly dresses that she refused to wear because now she doesn't believe that it actually existed. She thinks I dressed her like a hobo throughout her toddler and preschool years just to be mean, and to ruin her wedding montage video.

How soon we forget.