Hallowe'en is very scary

Never watch the movie Hallowe'en with your 10-year-old, very impressionable son. That is my warning for the day.

Our son is one of the most confident, self-fulfilled little people anyone will ever meet. He is both physically and mentally muscular, and full of thoughts of how absolutely wonderful he is. It's great to see, because he's not at all obnoxious about it. Honest.

This is a boy who studies the amazingly large muscles of his upper arm as he carefully carries the litre of milk to the table for dinner, extremely proud of his abilities and physical prowess. This is a boy who will, without hesitation and very predictably, remove his shirt everytime he watches a boxing match or breakdancing on television, just so that he can repeat the moves while he expects everyone to watch the numerous muscles ripple throughout his torso.

When I mentioned to the kids yesterday that I was PVRing some scary movies for us to watch later on, my son became ecstatic. He could not wait to watch blood and gore and guts and more blood, and maybe some brains. Hallowe'en (the original 1978 movie) was what we chose to watch.

Within the first 15 minutes of the movie, Dennis was cowering under the covers beside me, his index fingers planted deeply in his ears, the blanket up by his forehead. Then, the first murder scene happened in the car, where the girl tries to start the car, but Michael Myers is there behind her, without her knowing it (obviously), and then he violently strangles her to an awful and very untimely death. Dennis couldn't watch it, and when it was done, he burst out crying fitfully, and then angrily demanded we watch something else, like maybe a Disney movie.

Being the good mother I am, we ended up watching the rest of Hallowe'en (since my daughter and I outvoted him, which I thought was the only fair way to go in this case), and he refused to go to bed, so he lay there beside me, under the covers for the remainder of the movie, fingers in ears. By the end, though, he said, "This wasn't so bad after all."

Of course, this morning, as we got ready to go to gymnastics, his fears came to the forefront once again, and this is where I quickly decided that, no, watching Hallowe'en with my 10-year-old strong, muscular son, was not the best idea I've had.

Dennis commanded me to follow him, which I did. He had to go poop, and wouldn't dare go anywhere without me standing right next to him. So, there I stood, in the bathroom while my son defecated.

I'm assuming that is punishment enough for making him watch the movie...


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