Saturday, 30 October 2010
My son now feels he’s too old to go out on Halloween. We call it “guising” in Scotland. Short for disguise, geddit? But people now call it Trick or Treating. When I were a lad we used to have to do something for the treat, like sing a song, recite a poem or at the very least tell a joke. Nowadays they stand at your doorway with their hand out. While the other hand holds a bag already chock-full of sticky treats.
One year I even wrote a play. I was twelve. It was shit. So sue me. I got my sister (aka Queen of Chaos) and her pal to play the other two parts. We each had about 3 lines of dialogue – I was very fair-minded and all I can remember about it was that someone died horribly at the end.
The neighbours must have laughed up their dinner when we moved on.
So, this year the wee fella is 12 and he’s way too cool to be going out in a disguise. This is me feeling kinda sad and relieved at the same time. It’s cold out there people!
The Wee Fella has never been much of a reader but the school have managed to get him interested in the Fighting Fantasy gamebooks. So, emboldened by this success I place a book beside him on the sofa. It’s a more conventional novel, Ostrich Boys by Keith Gray (a friend of mine) which has won shedloads of awards.
Me: why don’t you have a go at this. It’s won a lot of awards.
The wee fella just looks at me...
...and says, Dad, you’re taking this too far.
Me (on the phone to a friend): Oops, nearly called you a name that rhymes with Rick. (I didn’t want to use rude words while my son was around)
The wee fella: (shouts) Dad, the word is prick!
Me: Don’t you talk like that.
TWF: I don’t. I'd never use a word like that. I call my friends arseholes