Hallowe'en problems

	Hallowe'en problems
Some People's Parents	Prev \| TOC \| Next

I wouldn't normally approach a stranger's house at night, except at Hallowe'en, and accompanied by children. But it was really Hallowe'en, and my kids really did want to collect treats.

So I looked for the old Robin Hood costume that my son wore the year before, so at least my daughter would have a decent costume. I should have known something was up when my daughter started asking questions.

"What are you looking for, Daddy?"

"The costume your brother wore last year."

"Why, Daddy?"

"So you can wear it."

"Why, Daddy?"

If this exchange sounds to you like the classic 'Why? Why? Why?' that little kids do sometimes, you'll understand why it sounded that way to me, and why I didn't respond to that second 'why'. Just a minute or two later, I found the Robin Hood costume, all except the toy bow. I emerged from the closet flushed with success.

"Ta da-a!" I shouted as I thrust my trophy high in the air.

"Do you like my costume, Daddy?"

"My costume do you like?"

There they were, a little princess in taffeta and lace, and a really tall version of Yoda, complete with messed up word order.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah! They both look much better than the old Robin Hood costume. Don't have the bow, anyway."

"In my room the bow is. For a school history project the bow I took."

I glared at my son.

"I ... guess I should have put it back."

I beamed at him, a full force smile.

"I'll put it back right away, after we get back from trick or treating."

That wasn't worth a glare, but I quit smiling and lifted one eyebrow.

"Um, the bow I now will get." Yoda knew how to get ready fast: humour Dad.

It was an hour or so later that I saw something I'd never seen before. It was at the stranger's house I mentioned earlier. A sidewalk led from the street to a door by the kitchen. My kids and two of the neighbour's kids were just starting toward the house. I glanced in the slightly open kitchen window and saw a pot on the stove, gently steaming. Then the steam turned black and suddenly there were flames. I was astounded. I'd never seen anyone else start a fire in the kitchen before.

"George! George!" shrieked a woman. "The oil's on fire! What do I do?"

A large man with a determined look on his face burst into the kitchen and yelled, "We gotta get it outta here before the whole place burns down!"

He started to pull on oven mmitts, and suddenly I knew. The world seemed to go into slow motion as I hurled myself down the path toward the kids. I desperately wanted to get them off the sidewalk before he flung a pot of flaming oil out the door. I grabbed all four kids in my arms and jumped away from the path, on the side away from the kitchen window, just in case.

We landed in a pile on the grass and nothing happened for about 5 seconds. Then my daughter piped up.

"Daddy? Why can't we go trick or treating at Mrs. Smith's?"

I looked over my shoulder at the door, without releasing the kids.

Crash!

A large heavy pot sailed through the kitchen window, and rotated majestically as it flew. About a cup of flaming oil flared in the night, and went out before it hit the lawn.

"Wow, Daddy! Mr. Smith cooks just like you!" My daughter sounded more excited than impressed.

"No, daughter. He's an amateur. If he was experienced with kitchen fires, he'd know enough to just put a lid on an oil fire, take it off the heat, and wait for it to go out safely."

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