Halloween

We found ourselves with a bit of a problem this morning. Ella and Alex both really wanted to go to school. And last night, we'd baked brownies, so that they could have a sweet to share with their class.  (This being an American holiday, we wanted to represent!) And they were both feeling much better than they did yesterday, tummy-wise...but they still both had to make mad dashes to the bathroom every so often.  

Kindergartners are encouraged, wisely, to go to the bathroom early and often, so this wasn't a problem for Alex, but for Ella, every time she has to use the bathroom during class time, she has to write an additional Joker punishment assignment.  She was carefully weighing the risks of having to write umpteen Jokers against the fun of going to school on Halloween....and she was conflicted.

We solved the problem by sending each kid in with a note, saying that we believed them to be healthy, but if they had any concerns, the teachers could call, or the kids could be sent home. And, sure enough, the first time Ella had to go to the bathroom, I got a phone call from Ella's teacher, a blur of German, from which I gleaned that she was sending my daughter home.  Five minutes later, I saw a little pink blur dart by my window, and then heard the doorbell ring.  Ella came in, perfectly cheerful: she had determined that there wouldn't be any special Halloween activities at school, so she was feeling pretty lucky to be at home.

And, for the rest of the day, she seemed to be feeling just fine, literally bouncing off the walls and furniture:

I've had a little anxiety about Halloween these last few weeks. I'd heard mixed reports from neighbors, some look at me strangely when I ask about the holiday, saying, oh no, not in Switzerland.

One friend, an Aussie, described last year's Halloween: she and her husband were well into a bottle of wine when they heard children's voices outside their house, and it occurred to them suddenly that it was Halloween.  She quickly turned off all the lights and hid while her slightly inebriated husband made a mad dash to the closest grocery store, making it back in record time, with about fifty francs worth of clementines, walnuts, and chocolates.  And, for their effort, they had exactly three trick-or-treaters all night long.

But others, parents of classmates, insisted that it was definitely okay to send the kids out.  But despite the reassurances, I hesitated: particularly since we, ourselves, are American, I worried that we might seem greedy and imposing. I eventually told the kids that, if we saw other trick-or-treaters, then they could go out, too.

So the day was a little anxious for Ella, too, who was living with the uncertain promise of candy.  She spent part of the day trying on different costumes, and another part pacing.  Finally, mercifully, the doorbell rang, and we received the most wonderful distraction: an enormous box of books from our friend Michal and her sweet daughters.  Nothing could have been received with more enthusiasm.

Ella retreated to her room with a long book of fairytales: she's been asking me questions about many of them since our trip to Märchenwald in Munich, and finally, finally she was going to get some answers answered.

At about 3:30...the waiting on Halloween day always seems interminable.

Finally, 5:00 rolled around, and the kids' most burning question was going to be answered: would there be candy in their future?  I gave the kids an early supper, and Alex eagerly went on a scouting mission with me around the neighborhood. I didn't expect to see any trick-or-treaters at our place since we live in apartments, but very near our home is a family housing neighborhood, with rows and rows of duplexes that contain at least one child each. It's just the sort of neighborhood that might embrace a holiday indulging children.

Alex was adorably stealthy as we walked around, whispering as he pointed out candles and decorations.  While we only saw two kids scampering around in costumes, there were a reassuring number of pumpkins burning on porches. Alex was so relieved: he wanted, at least, to go to the houses of all of his Kindergarten friends.

We went home and reported the good news. Surprisingly, Joey might have been the most excited of all.  He surely doesn't remember last Halloween; all he knows about the holiday, he's learned about in television and books.  As I helped him pull on his shoes, he chirped "It's almost Halloween! Nice old lady give us apple lollypops?"

And, when we exited to the courtyard, he called out into the night, "Oh, Great Pumpkin, where are you?"



As we approached the family housing, it was clear that we wouldn't be alone tonight: the kids were suddenly out in full force. Not surprisingly for Switzerland, there were many groups of kids going around alone. (Ella had originally planned on going out with nochElla, but in the end she decided she was more comfortable going with her family).  Parents were certainly walking around kids as young as Joey and Alex; those parents of the older kids were enjoying their night of freedom (and keeping an eye of the kids from afar) gathering in clusters, making small fires and huddling around with wine and cocoa.

The kids decided they were comfortable only going to "Halloween Houses," those with pumpkin decorations and candles, although most kids of the neighborhood seemed happy to knock on any door, lit or not.  My three did their best to mimic the Swiss phrase for "trick or treat"; I'd mistakenly told them it was "Sauer oder Süss," (sour or sweet), which made the parents giggle a little.  We eventually figured out that we were almost right: it's "Süsses oder Sauers!" chanted in a sing-song voice.

The kids did a fine job saying thank-you and taking just one piece...and they did more than that.  Dennis and I kept laughing happily when the parents would ask the kids questions and Alex would chirp out answers in Swiss German.  One of them asked a long, complicated query, and Alex proudly belted out "Einen König!" with his chest thrust out. I'll just never know exactly how much Alex understands.

Later, while we were walking, I asked him a little about what the people were saying, and Alex confided "I like having a secret language. Although Joey is starting to repeat my words.  I'll have to be sure not to let him learn the word 'bon-bons,' or he'll be able to figure out where I hid my candy!"

It was interesting, seeing the treats that the kids collected.  For one thing, there were many unwrapped sweets in my kids' bags: people would hand single marshmallows out of a bag, or a sugar cookies straight from the box, or a loose gummy candy.  We reminded the kids that they should still be grateful, since the people giving these probably weren't familiar with the holiday, but they were being generous anyway, sharing things out of their own pantries. Alex took this in and then told me "we should be careful not to go out too late, then. We don't want anyone to have to give up his midnight snack."

Even the people who passed out wrapped candy gave very small things: the kids only got one miniature candy bar each. The rest of the candies were generally tiny toffees.  (I took pity on my children and gave them a full-sized Snickers and Twix apiece.  It's just not not Halloween without those.) Not that they cared in the least: there's something so intoxicating about free candy, no matter what the size.

I was also interested to see that the kids definitely favored the scary costumes in this neighborhood.  Ella was the only princess of the night: it was all witches and ghosts and ghouls, and, yes, Native Americans.  Ella commented that we were the least scary group, and Joey overheard her.  As a dragon, he took great offense: "But I'm scary!"  He really got into the spirit of his costume. At one point we walked by a little kitty, and Ella and Alex and Dennis stopped to coo at it.  But Joey, lingering back a few steps, he gave a mighty roar at the kitty (who merely flicked its tail in amusement).

But our little dragon got quieter and more clumsy as the evening wore on: he tried his best to hop and skip down the stairs like his siblings, but fatigue and chubby dragon thighs made it increasingly treacherous.  We eventually headed home at about 7:15.

The kids had quick baths, and then Ella and Alex met for the Great Candy Trade Summit of 2011.  Alex carefully sorted out a pile of all of his chocolate (which he generally doesn't like) and took them to Ella's room, to see what he could get for them.  He had his eye on her smarties and her lone lollypop. Ella suggested he make an offer.  It was so cute, watching Alex, carefully scoop up two candies, and then, anxiously add three more, and then, still worried about his chances, adding two more, finally saying "I'll give you these for your smarties."  I don't know if it was because I was watching, but Ella took pity on him and rolled her eyes.  "Alex, try offering one for one and see what happens."

Alex's rejects

Somehow, we had the boys in bed by 8:00, and I was very surprised when our front door buzzer rang a few minutes later.  Assuming it must have been nochElla and her brother, I rang them in, but no, it was a large gang of kids who must have exhausted all of the houses in the neighborhood and decided to work their way through our apartment buildings. Soon after, Ella's friend did show up, and we decided she would be our last visitor of the night and fastened forbidding sticky notes to our door.

But man, it was fun while it lasted.