Cook County News Herald

The Witch Hat: A belated Halloween story





 

 

It sat atop a Halloween display at Joynes. An ugly witch’s hat with a pointed tip, broad brim and a disgusting gray rat head poking out the front with its skanky tail protruding from the back.

It was creepy but perfect for the oncoming October visit with my grandchildren. Without a second thought, I bought it, knowing somehow I’d put it to good use.

Years ago, I gave up the fantasy of being the soft, sweet, cookie-baking grandma. Instead, I came to believe it’s a grandmother’s duty to keep the grandkids on their toes, show them a different side of life.

When I packed my suitcase, I carefully sandwiched the witch hat between a sweater and pair of jeans, not knowing exactly how I’d use it.

My daughter, Betsy, picked me up from the airport and on the long drive to her house, I considered the hat. Should I wear it when greeting the grandchildren? Seemed a bit inconvenient since it was still trapped in my suitcase and hard to reach. Besides it was past the twins’ bedtimes and riling them up just before making them go to sleep seemed downright dumb.

The next morning I still had no idea how to use the hat, but after watching the children leave on the school bus, I was inspired. How great would it be to have a witch greet you when you got off the school bus?

That afternoon, when the time came, I plopped the ghastly hat on my head, casually put my feet up and lounged at the back yard patio table in full view of the bus stop. I waited. Natalie’s middle school bus arrived first. Her eyes widened when she saw the hat, and when she got closer, she broke into a big smile and ran towards me. “Oh, Grandma.” She was appropriately impressed.

The twins’ bus arrived later, and I repeated my performance, sitting at the patio table, wearing the hat. Their response was equally satisfying. They yelled, “Oh Grandma…” and came running!

I was satisfied. The hat was not only a hit but also a “think outside of the box” lesson.

However, I may have over-estimated my influence. A week later, back home, during a phone conversation, I asked my daughter what happened to the witch hat. Had anyone worn it again? I figured it would be fabulously popular. I was wrong. Apparently, the hat wasn’t as big a hit as I thought.

“I was all ready to wear it for ‘trunk or treat’ night,” she said. But the kids begged me not to.”


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