I haven’t been to a haunted house in years. When I had children I didn’t even want to do Halloween anymore. It’s evil. Too scary. Ungodly. But my husband had different ideas. He wanted us to enjoy the time with our kids. We never celebrated the evil. We didn’t believe in the roots. It was just a holiday to beg for candy and as someone told us… we’re not to give back the devil what had already been taken from him. This time didn’t belong to him, just as much as Christmas didn’t belong to him. So, for the first time I went along with my husband on something I wasn’t sure I agreed with. I’ll admit it has been one of the best times of the year for us. We start with a chili dinner and then get dressed to head outside to run around with our neighbors. It’s the only time of year when we see so many of our neighbors at one time. It feels like community happens more on this one October night than any other time of the year.
But this was the first year that my kids wanted to do the haunted house at the Children’s Museum. We endured the not-very-scary Headless Horseman at Conner Prairie and I thought this might be the same – a little spook here and there but nothing that would traumatize. I finally gave in because part of me remembered what fun it was to peek around the corner and have someone jump out and scare you. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush I longed for again.
So yesterday, I took my three oldest to the Children’s Museum Haunted House. I was sure the youngest would scream in terror and I might have to carry him with his head hidden in my shoulder. Actually, it wasn’t quite that way. It was more like dear ol’ mom who was grabbing hold of his arm a little too tightly. It was I who screamed in every room, at every person, and who was soooo thankful that the 10-year-old really was brave enough to lead the way. The worst part was the guy dressed in complete white, head to toe, with the exception of his nasty black eyes. Think Marilyn Manson. He wouldn’t get out of my way. I couldn’t touch him and he couldn’t touch me but he wouldn’t let me get by him. And of course I had to say, “This guy is totally freaking me out.” So when I did get by him, he appeared unexpectedly a couple rooms later to which I exclaimed, “Ooooh, there’s Freaky Guy.” The girls behind us were yelling at each other to keep moving. Freaky Guy heard someone say, “Megan, keep walking.” So of course, he starts yelling “Where’s Megan?” at me and the others. Finally someone said, “I’m not Megan, OK?!!!” I would have shouted the same thing, but I couldn’t find words, only screams.
Needless to say, my boys didn’t fall into a pile of tears. Instead, they doubled over in fits of laughter at dear ol’ mom. After all it is the Mom Job Description on page 2, Section 4, article iiv: Embarrass dependents frequently; at least one time per day.