At least six years have passed since I last decorated for this holiday. That all changed last night when I asked Noah for the umpteenth time whether he was going to carve his pumpkin.
"Na-eh," the sixth-grader grimaced. I sighed with disappointment. Isaac and Aaron planned to carve theirs at a friend's party on Halloween night. So, unless I took the task upon myself, we'd have no jack o' lantern to greet trick-or-treaters.
Then I remembered "The Great Pumpkin" - a six-foot inflatable sort my mother had given to each of her four daughters' families more than a decade ago. I proposed, "Noah, would you like to help me put up the Big Pumpkin?"
"Ye-ah!" he shouted grabbing his shoes and jacket to help me locate the box packed who-knows-where since its last use and after this year's extensive rennovations. Noah found it - in the garage on a shelf between the life jackets, snow saucers and tackle boxes.
As we unpacked the silky orange fabric surrounding a blower on a stand, Noah said, "I thought it was a lot bigger!"
"Well, the last time we used it, you were a lot smaller," I replied. "How old were you anyway?"
"Five," the now 5-foot 6-inch, almost-12-year-old said.
"Five!?!" I sputtered. "That's six years ago."
"What happened?" I muttered to myself wondering what kind of a mother am I to give up on decorating for the holidays. My thoughts shifted.
Already the pumpkin was plugged into the extension cord from the front porch and inflating on the lawn near the garage apron. As I tried to figure out which of seven assorted stakes to use for anchoring the stand and tie-outs, Marge and Blizzard appeared.
The two cats prepared to attack the lighted giant. Marge jumped at a tie-out cord and wrestled it to the ground. As her sharp claws grasped again and again, I shouted, "Get her and shut her in the porch!" Noah defended the pumpkin luring the kitten into reach, grabbing her by the scruff and toting her up the steps. Meanwhile Blizzard - who now at winter weight and with his thick tawny coat looks like a miniature cougar - eyed the glowing-orange beast up and down as his tail twisted in calculation. I knew that look could mean only one thing!
"BLIZZARD!" I hollered in hope of distracting him from jumping on the "enemy's back," sinking in his claws and deflating our efforts. It worked - momentarily. As he regained eye contact with his perceived beast, I tried again this time - affectionately - by patting the ground, clicking my tongue and calling, "Bee-zzord." It worked - Attacker Nabbed.
"Put him in the porch too!" I directed Noah returning from shutting in Marge. In the handoff, Blizzard sprung from my cuddle, away from Noah to the woodpile. Noah followed solving the trouble by opening the house door. Both Blizzard and Tickles bolted inside where Noah led them into the enclosed three-season porch for holding.
I was still fumbling with the stakes when Noah returned, pulled out the directions and read by the light of the pumpkin: "Hook the clips to the stand. Anchor the tie outs with the stakes."
Voilà! Jack O' Lantern Secured!
We decided to leave him lit all night.
To the boys' delight.
Aaron: "You put up the pumpkin!?!"
Isaac: "You finally decorated."
It had been years. Maybe I can find the lighted mini-pumpkin garland before tonight? And the cats? They're spending Halloween indoors.
Happy Halloween from Along Life's Road!
