"Again I say, you're lucky I'm so nice," she says, pointing a finger in my face. "Ellie is Piglet, since she looks way better in pink than I do. Griffin is Tigger, and—"
"I thought David would be Tigger," I blurt. "Since he's so obnoxious."
"Don't be mean to Tigger, he's been through a lot," she scolds. "David is Eeyore. Because he's an ass."
I throw my head back in laughter, clapping my hands at her pure genius.
I can't wait to see his fucking face.
"And that makes you," she continues, shoving the hanger into my chest. "Christopher Robin. Just a regular boy, no elaborate costume for you this year. Happy Halloween."
"I love you," I sigh, taking the 'costume' in my hands. We both freeze, her gaze snapping to mine, wide-eyed. "For this," I stammer. "I love you for not making me wear overalls again. Thank you."
"Oh," she breathes, looking flustered. "Duh. Um, well, you're welcome, Jack Robbit."
For a moment, something I can't quite read flashes across her face. She almost looked…disappointed.
Wishful thinking. Knock it off.
"Let me throw this on real quick and then we can meet the others," I say hurriedly, darting into the hallway bathroom to change.
I hide in the bathroom (like a coward) until the ring of the doorbell announces the arrival of the rest of the Hundred Acre Wood. The sight that greets me when I join the group in the entryway is so comical it's almost disorienting. Ellie is in a pink horizontal-striped dress, wearing a pig snout made of construction paper that Erin is already grabbing for. Griffindons a violently orange jumpsuit covered in tiger stripes, with a striped tail that doesn't quite reach the ground hanging behind him.
"David, I like the commitment to the character," I say, clapping him on the shoulder as he files in behind Griffin. "The frown really sells it."
"I wanted to be Tigger," he grumbles, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Aw, c'mon man, don't be a downer," I say. "Your tail is way better than Tigger's. And no one's better at being an ass than you."
"If my new best friend wasn't right there," he growls in a low voice, nodding his head in Erin's direction, "I'd show you exactly where you can shove this tail."
"No threats on baby's first Halloween, please," Abby says in a sing-song voice, tossing me the house keys and grabbing a candy bucket that she's crafted into a honeypot. "Let's go!"
"Where are we even going?" David whines. "She can't have candy yet." He pauses for a moment. "Can she?"
"No, my six month old cannot have candy," Abby says patiently, the way you'd explain to a small child that two and two makes four. "But her mom can, and her momwill."
“Geez,Jacky boy,” she whispers, hanging back while Griffin and David argue down the driveway before climbing into my jeep. “I didn’t know anyone could make a Christopher Robin costume look hot, but damn you’re wearing the hell out of that polo.”
My ears burn, and I’m grateful for the cover of dusk hiding how bright red I must be right now. I don’t know what the hell possessed her to say that, but I do know that I make it through the entire Rangers roster in my mind before calming down enough to move my hands from my lap.
Our first stop is the Wheeler house, where Abby's dad and brother are sat in matching rocking chairs dressed as Marty McFly and Doc Brown.
"Nate, I'm surprised you're not out with your friends," Abby says, face twisted in confusion. "Why are you here?"
"God forbid an uncle might want to see his baby niece on her first Halloween," he huffs, kissing both Erin and Abby on the cheek. "Besides, Halloween parties don't start at five thirty, old lady."
"This old lady could still snap you like a twig," she retorts, punching him in the shoulder. They begin talking over each other, bickering in the same way David does with his sisters before Mr. Wheeler cuts them off.
"Enough, you two," he says, stepping between them and hoisting Erin into his arms. "And how are you, little Pooh bear?"
At the Thompson house, Ellie, Andrea, and Abby huddle together around Erin, trying to get the perfect photo of her next to a jack-o'-lantern on the front steps. Griffin and David wildly flail their arms, trying to get Erin to both smile and look at the camera. I stand watching from a distance when Alan steps up beside me.
"How are you, Jack?" he asks, his voice low.
"I'm doing fine," I say with a shrug. "How are you and Andrea? How's the washer holding up?"
"Good, no problems since you came over to fix it," he says. "Thanks again for doing that."
