Can of Beans
The photo above is another year than this story(1970) to be exact myself, my little brothers Doug and Nelson, but sort of cute no? Who can resist little kids in costumes...
The funniest Halloween story that I can remember took place when I must have been about 6 years old. As the oldest girl of course I went out as a princess, (what else…) my next youngest brother I don’t even remember. My Mom decided that she would dress up my littlest baby brother who must have been about three at the time as a clock.
Cute idea right?
So she gets to work and cuts out this big round clock out of an old cardboard carton to go from the top of his toes to just below his neck, and then draws in magic marker some nice dark stylized hands, the numbers and then proceeds to fashion some type of harness to hang the entire contraption over his shoulders. Well the trouble began when she tried to load us up into the car.
(My mom can get the worst case of the giggles you have EVER seen) .
We lived out in the country just about miles from anywhere so we had to drive to all of our neighbors for Halloween. We would circle the concession which would take around and hour and maybe get to trick or treat 5 or 6 houses…which was beyond exciting for us.
The trouble began when she tried to load us all up into the car. She sort of forgot that in order to sit in a car you need to do that essential action called “BENDING”. My poor little brother in his clock suit could not BEND. We sort of had to wedge him sideways in, he barely fit and he almost obscured the rest of us with his big clock face…By this time my mom is getting the giggles at his antics to get into the car ….He was so focused on the trick or treat part and the promise of candy (which we never ever had) in his little clock suit. He was completely nonplussed by having to stand up in the middle of the back seat of our Metallic blue Bellaire station wagon or being unable to move… still happy as a clam with his sweet little three year old voice.
Off we go, I remember my mom softly giggling to herself in the front seat now…
We arrive at the first house, and everyone bails out of he car, the little guy barely struggles out. And he just trips , flips and falls like a little tiny tree…flat on his front, and even then can’t get up but is floundering face down on the ground… now my mum is giggling harder…but he is not crying, he is not sad, he is HAPPY and utterly INTENT at getting to the front door and procuring that little empty pillowcase for goodies…she has forgotten to cut holes for his hands so he can’t stop his fall and yet he is still so intent on the candy there is no stopping him…he proceeds up the hill to the front door, he falls again …and again…and again…each time my mom righting him like someone levering the lid off a can of beans….by this time my mom is laughing so hard she can barely walk….
Oh the memories of childhood…
Posted by Nomad at 12:22 PM
- Paris, France
- A Canadian expatriate living and exploring first France now Germany, then BACK to FRANCE (!!!) with her family; former fashion designer, turned unexpected UNLIKELY NOMAD, raising two children, writing, photographing, painting, playing piano (who knew!!) and blogging - and now... full time student at ART SCHOOL!! (I MUST be crazy!!)