Halloween in August

Cole has always had an affinity for slightly scary things.

The menacing "snort" in "Are You My Mother?" His over-sized, manically bobbing tiki birthday balloon. Rooms with the lights off. Even back when he was into Thomas the Tank Engine, it was never just any old episode--he always insisted on "the spooky one." (Actually a very odd plot line involving an abandoned railway, an old miner, and some vaguely threatening nighttime shots, complete with dry-ice smoke.) He loves to look at pictures of ghosts, and delights in playing games that involve monsters.

But Halloween is his very favorite thing of all.

His first year of life, he was a sweet little gray elephant, and spent the night beaming at people as we carried our little Dumbo through the Park Slope parade.

Year two, the holiday somehow got away from us, so I stuffed him into a borrowed puppy costume, and we watched him toddle down the parade route, ducking into stores all willy-nilly.

Last year, we let him choose his costume, and we ended up with a little green dinosaur. His two-year-old "roar" was very impressive, and he bravely marched up to townhouse after townhouse, announcing "trick or treat" with gusto.

He's good about understanding that Halloween comes only once a year, and let us pack away his costume and orange pumpkin bucket without protest when it was all over.

Now, I don't know whether it was the early ripening pumpkins in the backyard (our version of grass) or the costume catalog he spotted in the mailbox, but he's suddenly back in full-out Halloween mode. How do I know?

Charlie Brown.


Specifically, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."

Every day for the past week and a half, Cole has begged to watch Charlie Brown. "The Halloween One!" he breathes, dancing around as I cue up the DVD. "The Pumpkin One! Not the other one!"

He delights in the kids' ghost costumes, and chuckles when Linus's pumpkin gets stuck in the fence. He watches Snoopy's flying ace with rapt attention, and grins when they draw on Charlie Brown's head. Once it's over, he despairs, flopping onto the couch and whining endlessly, "I want to watch it again."