Month Thirty-Three

Only you would think to name the family Halloween pumpkin Cuckoo. I'm not sure how you got naming privileges or what inspired the title, but it worked for you. And you loved Cuckoo. Even when we tossed him into the City compost pile and told you the gorillas were going to eat him. Oddly, this didn't seem to bother you. Your best friend for several weeks being eaten by large mammals likely to tear him from limb to...stem. But that's you, Jack. Letting something go and if it comes back to you, it was meant to be. Unless it's your garbage truck, in which case there is no que sera sera approach. There is no letting it go. It is yours. End of story.


You finally got the idea of Halloween this year. But you didn't so much appreciate our idea for your Halloween costume. Your dad and I were so excited to bring home our incredible find to you. A super cool, awesome gorilla complete with muscular chest plate! Who doesn't love gorillas, Jack? The short answer is you. You're all fine with them eating your best gourd friend, but when it comes to emulating them, you're all, "Ummmm...nooooooooo...NOOOOOOOOO!" We couldn't even get it on you without you screaming and flailing. Initiate Operation Non-Scream Inducing Unmammalian Costume.

You couldn't have been happier to return home from another shopping trip with dad with your brand new firefighter costume in tow. Firefighters are good and all, and I guess they got that whole hero thing going on, but they are no fierce lowland ape. And a firefighter? It's so...pedestrian. Gorilla, well that edgy, that is an environmental statement, my friend. Not that my feelings were hurt. Or that I had to finally realize I could no longer dress you in ridiculous little get-ups that suited my fancy. Thank God we had your brother. He fulfills that insatiable need in me now.


I was so thrilled I got to take you door to door to collect candy from the neighbours. I was sure you would bore of the whole experience after you got your first batch of candy. But oh no, was I mistaken. You proceeded to go to every single house on our block. Except those with cats. Or vampires. Or creepy music. I was so impressed how you marched up to each door, knocked and cried out, "Trick or treat!" So bold. So courageous. Apparently the firefighter costume was the best fit for your personality after all. Over the coming days, you shared your candy with dad and I, and little did you know that I ate the vast majority of it within a few nights. That's why I like 2.5 years old. Short-term memory. A hungry mom's best friend.


I know there will come a time I will be relegated to hiding behind the bushes so no one sees me as you go from house to house collecting your treats. You'll want to show your independence, and you'll want to hang out with your friends. Your mom will cramp your style. But for now, I'm so thankful I got to watch your face light up whenever someone let you pick out your own candy. And I'm so thankful I got to watch my little boy experience the exhilaration and relief of finding a happy face inside a warm house willing to give him a couple extra chocolate bars. That I could eat later.

Love,
Your Momma