Before having kids, I was never too much of a fan of this holiday, and yesterday it occurred to me that maybe my aversion to Halloween stems from the fact that 35 years ago today, the Halloween of 1978, I fell off the top of the slide on my 1st grade playground, broke my arm and peed in my pants.
Yes, I fell from the top of a slide, onto the gravel ground below, broke my arm, skinned my chin and knee, and wet my knickers, right there for all my fellow grade schoolers to see.
I think it must have been from the shock of it all, but as my tears flowed, so did my pee. Fast and furiously. The humiliation from the pee way out-weighed the pain from my broken wrist.
I am still friends with a few of my classmates from that eternity-ago, and they all swear that they didn’t notice my pee-stained pants as I hobbled off to the front office to call my mom to come get me.
Maybe they’re just being kind, like the nurses who tell their patients that they didn’t poop when pushing out their kid, but either way, I’ll try to take their word for it.
The one good thing that came out of that fall was all the attention I got from wearing a cast. Yes, I was needy of attention even as a six year old. I asked the cute boys to help me take my spelling tests and to carry my book bag to and from the playground. That was the beginning of my boy-craziness, which is extremely disconcerting for me now, since my older daughter is in 1st grade.
So when I re-tell this story to my kids, who LOVE to hear about me peeing in my pants, I leave the part out about asking boys to take my tests, and sign my cast. I don’t need to put those crazy thoughts into their brains.
Now, I am trying to build happy Halloween memories so I am not forever haunted by the pee-pee pants nightmare Halloween of 1978.
Slide Photo via © Andres Rodriguez | Dreamstime Stock Photos