We’ve had the birthday party. We’ve had the week leading up to Halloween with the obligatory countdown, during which I thought a certain small boy would wiggle himself into jam. We’ve had the last minute changes in desired costume, which ended up right back where we started, with a pirate. We had Halloween brunch with Joseph’s godparents, at which he showed off the pirate costume. I made him a green crushed velvet tunic with a white belt, and bought a black pirate hat which he loves wearing around the house and going “arrh, arrh, arrh” in his best evil treble. Needless to say, I’ve spent a lot of time this past week laughing.
Daddy took him to choose a pumpkin. Originally it was supposed to be a family expedition, but I had an attack of caution about the dratted foot in combination with slippery leaves (it had been raining) and uneven ground. They came home with this orange monster large enough to seat a small boy comfortably, which he pronounced “the perfect pumpkin”. I had to agree. It was huge, symetrical, and deep orange. It was only later that I learned that its imperfections were well hidden. The inside was going to mold. Ick! But since it was getting hollowed out anyway, I just scooped out the soggy bits with the seeds before I cut it. Not good for eating, but fine as an organic candle-lantern.
It’s been wonderful to behold. It’s the first time we’ve seen advance understanding or planning from Joseph. He’s always developed in leaps and plateaus. We’ve just done another leap. Time means something now; birthdays and holidays and costumes aren’t just something weird Mommy and Daddy talk about. They’re his, real before their actual arrival, events he can plan and help execute exactly as he wants. The change of age was arbitrary from 4 to 5, from 5 to 6. This one wasn’t arbitrary. He understood what it meant to be 7. And he understood that dressing up for Halloween meant pretending to be something different than he usually was. Before Joseph I enjoyed playing with the kids around me, watching them pretend and make up stories, but I took for granted that kids did that. Now I don’t take it for granted. Imagination is a miracle, and I have watched in awe as it has dawned in my son.
Other stuff? What other stuff? Oh, that election thing? You’d best bet I will be voting, as will every eligible person in this house. It’s a religious thing with us – we’re Jewish, midwestern, and we vote. I’m just praying we will actually have a result in less than a month. I’ve been making my husband laugh as I read the paper and go ranting at it. The latest was an editorial writer that claimed to speak for all mothers concerned about the security of the country their children had to live in – the so-called “security moms”. I have news for her. I have a son, and that is a major concern of mine. But you know what? I reached the opposite conclusion. Somehow, I think my son is more likely to live in a peaceful world if his home country isn’t making a concerted effort to alienate nearly every other country on this poor globe. I’ll be happier with a government that doesn’t think “bang you’re dead” constitutes effective foreign policy, especially when after lots of things going “bang” the bad guys aren’t dead. I think my son deserves a government that maintains security by planning ahead instead of charging ahead without evident plan. So no, not all “security moms” agree. I just hope all of them vote. And the negative ads, and their repellent effect? People voted in spite of what candidates said about each other in prior centuries. And those names – and lies – were a whole lot nastier than anything I’ve heard recently.
So let’s try and make this the country we want the kids to inherit. Mine, yours, your nieces and nephews and the kids that go to the school down the street. Start tomorrow. Whatever you believe, whomever you agree with, make it heard. Get out there and vote.