(A caveat for west wing parents)
Jobim couldn’t have been more excited, beaming in his
borrowed Spiderman one-piece costume.
We loaded up into the car and headed over to the New School West
Halloween parade! Lots of talk,
lots of prep, lots of days of Roleen showing how she put on her costume and
make-up had built up the day’s events to a level pushed only higher by the
promise of candy.
About halfway into the six-block drive Jobim announced he didn’t
feel well and wanted to go home.
“Jobim! It’s parade day, let’s go.” He repeated he wanted to go home. I parked a block from
school and opened the car door to a boy gripping his car seat firmly. “I’m not going,” he said, “I’m going
home.” I spoke softly, and
encouraged, I talked about the events, and finally, pried him out of seat, his
fingers off the car door, held down his kicking feet and carried him down May
Street. As we neared Joe’s house
and the talking witch he broke away from me and ran away, headlong, away from
the school. Jobim. Jobim who had loved his every day at
NSW from the start, from play days to pushing me ever harder down the ramp to
say good-bye.
I carried a kicking, crying Spiderman into NSW’s west wing,
greeted by Flora, who immediately came over to us. She gently spoke to him and told him all the children were
already lining up for the parade.
He sobbed and wailed, and I finally asked him if he might be afraid of
the parade, of Roleen’s costume, of people watching. All the above.
We showed him where I would be standing outside the gate, waiting to
walk with him, and then, and only then, he quieted. I left him holding Flora’s hand and joined the other parents
on Venice Blvd.
The Venice gate opened and suddenly robots, soldiers,
princesses, monkeys and mice squinted out into the morning sun. Spiderman appeared, grinning ear to ear
as he saw Lloyd and me. He
sprinted down the block again, this time gleefully, racing ahead of the group,
touching the witch’s hand, and pronouncing his bravery. He had a fantastic time.
We explain and explain to our children, at each age level,
thinking they understand our words, our knowledge, of what we are telling
them. Even with a practice walk
down May Street for the parade, even with Roleen’s ever evolving and deepening
disappearance into her witch costume, the actuality of the event, like so much
of life, was unknown without actual experience. I’ve shied away from events I don’t know, and don’t
understand, and watching Jobim’s revelation, wonder what fun I’ve missed and
vow to take a new challenge.
Lessons abounding for all!