Last Wild Witch

It's getting complicated.

The other night, G/Son, his 'rents, and I were eating at our favorite Mexican restaurant and the 'rents were saying that maybe they'd come over to Nonna's neighborhood, this year, for trick-or-treating, since their neighborhood doesn't take trick-or-treating too seriously, not having many kids. And I said that would be great; they could come over before Nonna and all her friends began their ritual. I said, "We all dress up like Witches, because we are."

G/Son, who loves his Nonna and thinks she's a nice old lady who will buy him the Star Wars toys that he wants and play make-believe games with him and let him stay up eating Cheerios and watching movies, said, "No, you're not Witches." He knows that I've told him that I am a Witch, but he's at a stage where he doesn't want it to be true. It confuses him.

I said, "Yes, we are. We are good Witches, who honor the Earth. Like Glinda, the good Witch, remember her?"

G/Son said, "Yes, but she was just a Witch because she had a magic wand that worked."

We're going to have to have a longer talk about this soon, but I think we need to have it on a walk, outside.

I'd give almost everything I've got not to make his life complicated. But he's a smart kid; he's going to be able to understand this. Please.