Scaaaaary

The Electric Kid is here today. We took a walk earlier - he wanted to see the spooky houses up close because (he says) they give him headaches, hiccups, and make him "craaaa-zy."

He's four. He loves Halloween. And I love watching him love Halloween.

Scary was so easy when we were that age, wasn't it? A leap from a door (with an explosive "Boo!") almost made me pee my pants back then. Jack 'o Lanterns flickered and leered and gave me nightmares until Thanksgiving. Hell, growling sounds from someone's stomach would give me chills. I don't jump at any and all sounds these days but potential for fear abounds.

My mother getting taken by a scam artist (yep, true - working on reversing it). My car getting hit in a parking lot (a bad scratch to the driver's mirror housing, but four days in the shop because the actual mirror broke). The Dow rising and falling and rising and ...? My doctor recommending a (routine) colonoscopy because the Big Lug and I are now "that age." Hopes pinned on a quest that (at the rate I'm going) will depend on winning a lottery, writing a bestseller, or pulling a Madoff. The chest pain that turns out to be bad fish or a pulled muscle due to overly energetic sex.

Y'know, all the stuff that could be, might be, can't be ... left on, walked off, no control ... what if I, what if he, what if they ...

I think I want to be four again for awhile, let the "ghost-es" floating in the trees and the "skedingdons" dancing on doors and the " 'pider webs" stretched from bushes to shrubs and back again frighten me. Just for a few days. Just "a'cuz."

Boo!

And grrrrrrrrrrrr!