Crazy Crap Item #140: The part where I remember just how scary things can be

Halloween is upon us, and I've enjoyed watching the various small people in our midst prepare for the mayhem. Most fascinating, I think, has been young James. At age 3, he's entering the threshold where he's beginning to understand "scary." Which means that things that would not have phased him last year are suddenly horrific.

There are irregularities in this trend. Skeletons, for example, hold no terrors for him. Perhaps it's because he does not yet grasp what a skeleton actually is, or what it implies, but he seems to find them rather cuddly. He has all but adopted a fully articulated, 10" tall skeleton I bought at Jewel ($3 - a bargain!), wrapping it in a cosy blanket and toting him around like a baby doll. His name is Boney.

He's less thrilled with costumes. Eamon's robot head, now enshrined on our fireplace mantle, drives him from the room, and he asked me to remove my witch hat when I modeled it for him.

So you can imagine his unbridled horror when our neighbor Jon Hey attended afternoon fun at the benches wearing a zombie mask. I'm told that his disguise delighted 6-year-olds Sam, Emmet and Jack, but reduced James to quivering paroxysms of fright. Sobs. Screaming. Uncontrollable terror.

So it's not clear why John decided to stage a repeat performance the next day, and to head directly towards James. Who starts to quiver.

So I scoop him up and tell him, "It's only Jon Hey."

To which he replies, "What if it's not????"

Remembering as I do that category of terrifying doubt, I said, "Wanna go in my house and play?"

Which he did. And I don't blame him.