On Halloween, a neighbor sent out a text to a local Facebook group I'm in—she'd ordered a trick-or-treat bucket from Amazon only it was too small, did anyone have an extra? I did, and was happy to pay it forward. We had a big fuchsia bucket courtesy of another neighbor. Years ago, when Max was obsessed with purple, we were doing our thing on Halloween and he'd spotted the bucket at a neighbor's house, holding treats. Max wanted it and I'd ended up trading buckets with the guy.
This year, Max's getup was once again an authentic fire department jacket we'd been gifted from our local station years ago for his birthday—with a couple of changes. I had to cover up the name of our town with black fabric and double-sided tape, and add LAFD (Los Angeles Fire Department) in sticky letters. Because Max is hell bent on moving to L.A.
Ben was a Benosauraus, and Sabrina and a friend dressed up as SNL's Pete Davidson.
We started cruising for candy and Max kept walking ahead of us.
"BYE!" he said.
I wasn't going to let him get away so easily, mainly because a lot of people's homes in our areas have steps, and I wasn't sure how he'd navigate them. Max has no interest in candy whatsoever but enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Also, I wanted to enjoy the afternoon with him.
En route, we walked by a dad dressed as a firefighter wearing a Fire Chief helmet. Max gazed at it, enviously; his own helmet said "Captain" and Max wanted a promotion. He looked at the guy hopefully but, unlike the purple candy bucket dude, this guy was not up for a trade.
"I'll order a Fire Chief hat for you," I promised.
"Los Angeles!" Max said. As in, next year I'm planning to trick-or-treat in Los Angeles.
Later, we passed by another family and the mom stared at Max.
"Excuse me," she said, "but does he like to hang out across the street from the fire station?"
"Yep," I said. "That's him. Right, Max?"
Max nodded enthusiastically. One of his favorite activities is walking to the fire department and standing on the street corner across from it. I've gotten messages from people who know him, asking if he was OK or lost. He's OK.
Later on, we were chilling on our front porch, basking in the chemical glow of the smoke machine and doling out candy. Max decided to take a bucket and go out on his own.
A good 45 minutes went by. Dusk was falling. Where was he? I texted. The answer, basically, was DOH.
He came back with a bagful of candy and a giant grin on his face. Later, Ben and I went out for another lap and a number of people mentioned Max had been by; they'd walked down their steps and held out their bowls of candy.
It was a good Halloween.
