A little prayer

He doesn't understand at first.
He doesn't like wearing the crown that goes with his costume.  He doesn't want the hood up, hates the feel of  the sleeves with their built in claws dangling round his tiny wrists, and doesn't want to hold the plastic pumpkin candy bucket.
I roll up the sleeves, leave the hood dangling down his back, and at the very last minute I pop his crown on his head and distract him by showing him how to knock on the door.  The plastic candy bucket sits on the ground between his feet.
He slaps the door with his little starfish hand and looks up, up, up.  It must seem impossibly large to him.  He is so small.  So dear.  So vulnerable and sweet.  My heart cracks a little with all the love I have for this tiny little moppet of mine.

The door opens.  From my position, crouched down beside my son, I chorus the standard "Trick or Treat" with high pitched enthusiasm, trying to get him  to chime in somehow, showing him what to do, modeling the right behavior.  Things I will continue to do for years to come.  I smile encouragingly, wrap his fingers around the bucket handle and help him hold it out for the miracle of free candy.  His eyes get big as the candy drops into his bucket.  He doesn't even know what candy is, but the novelty of being given something is apparently mind boggling and he stares open mouthed and big eyed into the depths of his once empty bucket.  "ohhhh" he says.  "uh-oh!" The only words he knows, and they actually seem applicable.

I help him wave and lift him down the stairs which are too tall for his little little legs.  At the bottom of the stairs he once again gapes into his candy bucket.  He puts it on the ground and looks up at me, puzzled.  I scoop him up and kiss that sweet spot between his cheek and neck, the spot that smells like graham crackers and "baby".  "That's candy! It's your treat! Wanna do more? More houses? More candy?"  He says, "yeah" like he always does when I ask him anything.  He hasn't learned "No" yet, thank goodness, and his little whispered "yeah" is sweet and funny all at once.

After the third house, it's like a light bulb goes off in his mind and the whole entire night is illuminated with understanding.  Go to door, get stuff, wave.  Next house!  Go to door, get stuff, wave.  Next house!  He runs on his tiny little legs, zigzagging and weaving, waving at any other kids he sees, he chatters nonstop in a language of his own, so full of merriment and joy.  He has no clue that the candy is for eating.  One house gives little bags of pretzels and I open it for him and let him munch on them.  He is happy now to carry his little candy bucket and he is so full of joy that it spills out of him and lights the whole night.  We walk together in our own little bubble of joy and light and I am so grateful for this moment with him.

He is so small, my little moppet.  Such a nugget of a baby... after awhile I carry him and it isn't long before he decides that he is done.  When I put him down to knock on a door, he cries.  I pop him into the stroller and give him more pretzels and we walk quiet and smoothly now back to the car.  The leaves in the trees are rustling music for us and on the drive home he falls asleep. He is peaceful and, therefore, so am I.

I think a little prayer as I lay him in his crib and listen to his soft even breathing: God, please let us have years and years of  Trick or Treating together... Amen.