The Butterfly Effect

Halloween almost didn't happen.
On the morning of the occasion Esmé announced that she did not want to go trick-or-treating. This was a surprise. But one thing we've learned, the harder you push the more resistance you get. It's one of those laws, like opposites attract and what goes up must come down. So we tabled the issue and moved on with our day. To be fair, Halloween being on a Sunday ramps the whole celebration up to Chanukah proportions. There was the celebration at school on Friday. Followed by the big village parade. No wonder she had had enough. Even I was sort of done with the whole affair. But at the same time, I hated to think of her missing out on what I consider the best part. Something she'd never forgive me for later (and it's all laid bare here on the blog for her to see, so there'd be no hiding it). And I knew that once she knew what was in store, she'd be so game. But for Esmé the whole trick-or-treating thing was still so theoretical. So we began our day as if it were any other day...

Over breakfast, casually, I mentioned that Sofia would be trick-or-treating later. To which Esmé replied, "I don't want to go trick-or-treating."

As we ran some errands in town, Kristopher wondered out loud if we would have enough candy for all the trick-or-treaters who'd be coming to our house. Nothing from Esmé.

As I mulled over this new development I realized what was at the heart of it for Esmé. To be sure, there was a little Halloween fatigue at work. By being stretched over three days, it was exhausting for us all. But that all notwithstanding, we didn't get off on the best foot Friday. Esmé was reluctant to put her costume on in the first place. And it's something, with hindsight, I suppose I could have anticipated. Esmé wanted to be a butterfly. It was totally her pick. And she wanted Theo to be a caterpillar. Cute, right? We even themed their costumes around The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle for added fun. After failing at my first attempt at wings (damn you Martha), I Modge Podged up a set of wings for Esmé that were perfect. All that she needed were a set of pipe cleaner antennae and a black warm-up suit. Voila!



I see Halloween as a day where you get to check yourself at the door and transform into something else altogether. So, I totally took for granted that my pink-obsessed, skirts-and-dresses-only-please daughter would be totally on board with the butterfly plan. I even prepped her, briefed her and demonstrated to her what exactly she'd be wearing. But, as I said before, this was all still in the theoretical realm for Esmé. Sure thing, Mom. No problemo.

So we had fireworks Friday morning before school. I struggled to get the black pants and top on her. But ultimately I prevailed. It wasn't until Kristopher and I joined Esmé at school for her party that I sort of got it. Most of the little girls were dressed as some sort of winged creature be it a butterfly or fairy. And they were all a symphony of pastels and marabou, tulle and tiaras. And then there was my daughter, in her black warm-up suit and home-made wings. Pipe cleaners bouncing with her every leap and twirl. Though I was proud to have made my little girl's costume. I feared that in doing so I made things a little harder for her.



My mother always made my costumes. And I remember feeling nothing but pride about that fact. At home we'd scoff the store-bought costume as I quite literally transformed into a lion or lizard, King Kong or court jester. I was a frequent winner at costume contests taking home top honors and big prizes like a shiny new Schwinn.

Watching Esmé mingle among her peers at the party, my heart ached for her a little. Her wide wing span bumping this kid here, knocking over that juice box there. I knew I wanted to continue making her costumes. It's a creative act and gesture of love all rolled into one fabulous memory. But I also realized that I am going to need to respect where she is at that moment and how she is defining herself. Make-believe is a big part of her play right now, but it is never an escape from how she sees herself, it is almost always an enhancement of it. So for now it's all about pink. And ballerinas. And skirts. And dresses.

So while Esmé took her afternoon nap on Halloween, I pulled out her fuchsia tutu. I dug out her pink turtleneck and beloved stripy stockings. I insisted she layer for warmth, but I also made sure that all her favorites were on top for everyone to see. And we were all relieved to see her slip on her wings and happily bound out the door to join Sofia for trick-or-treating. It was quite a transformation.