All Hallows Eve

Matthias, 2010

Halloween 2011. There was so much mess and chaos and yelling that day, and the light was almost gone before I remembered to snap a picture for papa, who was still in Toronto missing all the fun. 

Hugh—"I forgot my helmet!" Willie—"Hugh, you won't be a saint if you freak out."

Yesterday, my sweet mother came for a surprise visit and whipped up a wig and some fringed ponchos for Willie, while helping Matthias through a midlife crisis, telling stories to Hugh, doing puzzles, making sewing cards, pressing leaves, and telling me the whole time that I am a wonderful mother and coping very well. 


The rest of the costumes we found in the costume box.

Hugh—"Yes, I will be a saint. I have a sword. See?" Willie—"No, Hugh. That sword's plastic."

Willie was an "Indian" for Halloween. He was also St. Joseph, a native Canadian saint and friend of the Canadian martyrs. Now I question his existence because I find no mention of him on Wikipedia. Did I dream him up?


Hugh was St. Martin of Tours, patron of soldiers. (It's all about the armour). 


I got fearful at the last minute that we'd get in trouble for saying "Indian" so I told Willie he had to say "native".


Lady/man at the door—"What a nice little costume. What are you?"
Willie, quavering, "I'm an....Indian...." `

Hugh, firmly, "He's a native." 

Everyone thought it was pretty funny and ribbed me for trying to be all politically correct.


Matthias missed halloween altogether, and as a result is a happy and healthy person this morning 

I felt twinges of guilt about this, especially after seeing these adorable pictures from last year.

 

But the great thing about yearly festivals is...there's always next year, isn't there?