My son living his best life at Spirit Halloween.

“The other kids at school think I’m spooky.”

For a moment, I freeze. Parents will recognize this moment. A touchstone in their child’s development. They’ve noticed that they’re different. They are a sheep straying from the herd; Uncertain what their black wool means and whether to embrace it, shear it or dye it. It only lasts a moment but my mind responds instinctively and floods me with memories:

My father pauses in the doorway to our family room. He glances at the TV long enough to see a zombie biting the head off a mouse in ‘Night of the Living Dead’ (1990). “What is this weird shit you’re watching?” He mutters before shaking his head and moving on.

I wander the halls of my high school alone. I approach a blind corner and make the turn hoping I don’t run into a teacher who might ask why I’m spending the lunch hour pacing the halls instead of in the cafeteria with the other kids.

I sidestep hesitantly across the floor of Corris Line Video. Aiming to catch a glimpse of the latest horror VHS tapes before my mom notices that I’ve strayed from the children’s section. She pulls me away and suggests we rent ‘Annie’ (1982) for the fifth time (that being said, in pursuit of true authenticity don’t let me pretend for even a second that I don’t LOVE Annie).

Midnight. AOL instant messenger emits its iconic *door opens* sound effect. My latest secret crush has signed on. He adds an away message describing the antics from a classmate’s house party. I allow myself to imagine for a moment what it might have been like to attend before turning back to the TV and ‘Child’s Play II’ (1990) which is showing on USA Up All Night.

Dear reader…Have you figured out that I am a person who lives with anxiety yet? Such is how the anxious mind works and there’s no breathing exercise, visualization or medication I’ve discovered that will prevent these fanciful trips down memory lane (I should pause here to apologize to any of my past, present and future clients reading this who have ever labored under the misconception that I entirely “have my shit together”.)

Meanwhile, my son sits on the couch beside me, munching his afterschool snack: Minion-shaped goldfish and raspberries. He watches me intently and I remember that this is an important moment in our relationship. I consider my options and fall back on the most cliche question that one’s therapist parent could ever ask:

“How does that make you feel?”

His answer (muffled by a mouthful of half-chewed fruit but still audible): “I like it. Spooky is cool.” He turns back to his toy trains, our exchange already filed away behind more pressing matters.

I breathe. My muscles unclench. I smile as the anxiety and my mind and body return to baseline and realize that both literally and figuratively we are safe again. Actually that we always have been.

Times have changed, I remember. Nerds are in. Weird is trendy. “Spooky is cool.” as my son has so eloquently informed me. But also I’ve changed. When I was younger I rarely mentioned my love of horror. It felt risky and taboo and vulnerable. Inviting anyone outside a small and close circle to watch a horror movie with me felt dangerous. But here I sit now, not just talking about it openly but writing about it in a public forum. And more importantly sharing my love with the person most important to me, my son.

My son has been “spooky” for as long as I can remember. Even before birth when some dear friends threw us a Halloween-themed baby shower complete with zombie babies, jack-o-lanterns and matching skeleton t-shirts for my husband and me. His first favorite movie was Nightmare Before Christmas. He wears a pumpkin sweatshirt with the words “Spooky Season” emblazoned across the front year round. He studies Spirit animatronic videos on YouTube and can impersonate the movements and dark catch-phrases of many (for those in the know, his personal favorites include Dagger Mike, Crouchy, Nozzles the Clown and the OG Sitting Scarecrow who he has dressed as for Halloween for three out of his five Halloweens; No Aunt Maribeth that is NOT the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz).

The joy that (age-appropriate) horror brings to my son is palpable. Of course that could be said of almost any interest or hobby. But I have always believed that horror is one-of-a-kind in the way that it brings people together. As trendy and mainstream as it may become, horror will always fall on the darker end of the genre spectrum. There will always be those who question it. Who are made uncomfortable by its themes and sometimes graphic nature. Because of this I believe we horror families (family of blood and of choice) are drawn to one another and protect one another in a way that other genre fans do not.

I see this play out in the way my son and I have bonded over our joint love of the genre. Recently in our local library he wandered away to peruse books on his own and returned with a copy of the very adult novel We Came to Welcome You by Vincent Tirado. “Dad, this book has an evil pie in it!” he told me, pointing eagerly to the cover image which features a foreboding woman in red; cloaked in shadow and presenting the viewer with a pie from which small tentacles and eyeballs protrude. “Will you read this to me, Dad? You can change the words if there are any bad ones.” And for the past week, he has dutifully asked me each morning if I’ve read “the pie book” eager to know what happened next? He’s convinced the pie won’t taste very good but has still expressed an interest in trying it for himself.

As a therapist, one of the most important themes that I explore in my work with clients is that of connection. This can take many forms be it romantic, platonic, familial, professional or social. But it is something that nearly everyone seems to crave in one way or another. We can bond with one another over almost anything. But I have seen first-hand the power of bonding over niche subjects and in situations where one might feel othered by their identity and interests. These bonds can be particularly powerful and formative.

While exploring horror and all things spooky with my son, I’ve been able to revisit some of my own memories. By actively choosing to embrace my child’s unique interests and style, I can begin to view my younger self through a new lens. I can recognize the beauty and confidence that it takes to be a horror fan. I can recognize the joy and connection that genre brings into our lives. In a perfect world, I certainly wish I had found more of a community at a young age. My life might have taken a different trajectory. But if there is one thing the horror genre teaches us, it is never too late to change our narrative. The ubiquitous Final Girl often does not discover her strength until the final act of the film. And I still have many reels to go before my own final act. We all build our horror family in different ways and in our own time. I just had to get married and adopt a baby to grow mine. My son’s family on the other hand is already in place. I look forward to watching it grow from here.

Media & Notes:

Film:

Savini, Tom. (1990). Night of the Living Dead.

Lafia, John. (1990). Child’s Play 2.

Huston, John. (1982). Annie.

Print:

Tirado, Vincent. (2024). We Came to Welcome You.

Other:
My son’s favorite Halloween-themed YouTube channel is Spook365. Follow them for news on all Spirit Halloween’s latest and greatest animatronics.

Spooky Kid