She screamed. He cried. (A sweet Halloween story.)

I thought I had done a good job of prepping my preschooler for what she might see Halloween night. Ghosts, werewolves, witches, other blood-dripping beings. We’d read books (Happy Halloween Little Critter), and she’s particularly fascinated with Monsters vs. Aliens, so I didn’t think much would phase her. She is only three, but she’s a smart cookie. I explained that these things weren’t real, and that there were just normal kids underneath those costumes. I was more worried about my toddler. She developed a fear of jack-o-lanterns about a week ago, and what do you know, that’s what she was dressed as. I was waiting for her to look down, or see a mirror, and freak out.

But nobody freaked out until we were almost done panhandling for candy. We were right in front of my sister’s house, waving our last chocolate-fingered goodbyes, when a group of children appeared, surrounding my daughter as they made their way to the porch. They were dressed in standard Halloween fare, some sweet, some spooky. I noticed several were children of a friend of mine, and I gave a little wave. But there was one child in the mix, a young boy (probably 9 or so), who was wearing a costume I hadn’t thought to prepare my daughter for–a Scream mask.

By the time she spotted him, he was about a foot away. That’s when all heck broke loose. She screamed like I’ve never heard her scream, and held my leg so tightly I thought I might fall over. She was shaking. Hard. I’ve never seen her that scared. “Let me in the car. I wanna be in the car!,” she screamed. The boy noticed her fear, and removed his mask to show his face. “See honey? It’s just a boy wearing a mask. There’s nothing to be scared of.” But she wasn’t buying it. She was terrified. “Do you want to go tell your aunt and uncle goodbye?” No. She just wanted in the car. She wanted her blankie. And she wanted to go home. She was tired. And I was worried. Worried that this would be the cause of new nightmares. Poor kid has my overactive imagination, and doesn’t need any help in the “scary things in the shadows” department.

I gave her a little package of jellybeans on the ride home, and that seemed to distract her. Still, she thought about that mask. “Mom, when I grow up, I won’t be scared of masks like that.” Well, maybe she wouldn’t, but I have to admit that vision scares me a little, too. I wasn’t upset with the boy, or his parents. I was just surprised that of all things, that scared her the most. I suppose the designers knew what they were doing when they came up with something to make people “scream.”

We drove home, put the girls to bed, and I hopped on Facebook to check out pics from my friends and their Halloween adventures. I wasn’t expecting an instant message to pop up, let alone what it said. It was from the woman whose son was wearing the mask that had petrified my young daughter:

I’m so sorry my son scared your daughter. He was crying because he felt bad. He said he took the mask off so he didn’t think she would still be scared. He didn’t wear the mask the rest of the night. We are very sorry. I don’t think he will be wearing anymore masks. He said I knew I should have been a hunter. Again we are so sorry.

I was so touched at this unexpected message, and I just wanted to give this young boy a big ‘ol hug and tell him it’s okay. I was so impressed that he even noticed she was scared, let alone cared enough to shed a tear about the whole ordeal. No, I’m not a fan of super scary Halloween gear, but I am a fan of empathetic children, and moms who care enough to reach out and try to make things right. It really made my night, and is a Halloween memory I’ll always cherish.

Now, off to raid the candy buckets…