Due to me being such a shy and socially anxious kid, when I started elementary school, my mother, who I can tell you is just about the least “PTA” person you’ll ever meet, decided to become a “class mom”, one of the mothers who volunteers to help out with class parties and chaperone field trips and stuff. She figured I’d be less reluctant to get involved in things if she was around.
I can’t say for sure if it helped or hindered my social development, but there was one particular instance that I think played somewhat a part in my development into the person I am today.
The biggest perk of being the class mom’s daughter was that, when it came to things like goody bag prizes or craft supplies, if there were any left over, I got to keep them for myself. While other kids were whining and attempting to trade things, I was often content because I knew I had the rest of the coveted collection waiting for me at home. There were instances, though, when sometimes there were just enough to go around. I still felt lucky that I was able to choose my favorites, but, for a little kid, sometimes these were very difficult decisions.
One such incident, easily the most difficult decision I ever had to make regarding this sort of thing, was around Halloween in my kindergarten class.
This Halloween was a huge deal to me because it was the first one I was actually anticipating. The year before had been my first time trick-or-treating, which had taken some encouragement because I’d initially been terrified, but leading up to Halloween 1992 was the epitome of excitement. This year I knew what was coming and I was ready for it. I had my costume picked out (a Raggedy Ann dress I’d gotten from a local store that I realized later on looked more suited to Minnie Mouse), I’d painted some pumpkins, I’d made my little “Pumpkin Patch” in the living room, and when my mother announced she’d be making Halloween cupcakes for my class, I was over the moon.
She brought home a few packages of cupcake picks, and I fell in love with them all on sight.
(Not my photo, though I do think about rebuying these a lot.)
I was so excited about these cupcake picks, and of course thought I’d be getting one of each. I started thinking about how to fit them into my display, knowing myself, I probably even started to name them, but I was crestfallen to hear the news: There were only just enough to go around the class. My mother would make sure I got the cupcake pick I wanted when the cupcakes were distributed, but that was the best she could do.
And so, the great debate began.
It was probably a week or so before Halloween and the party that my mother brought the picks home, and I stared at them every chance I got. Every time I thought I had made a decision, I would change my mind again. I think at one point I may have even stolen one of each pick and tried to hide them, only to get caught and have my father get involved. One minute I wanted the classic pumpkin, with his perfect little face. The next I was intrigued by the witch and her bloody mouth and sinister expression. Then I wanted the cat, and his friendly, almost clownish smile. Or did I want the skeleton? He was the biggest and reminded me of decorations I’d seen trick or treating the year before. Every night I would tell my mother one decision, and by the next morning I’d reached a different one.
I truly don’t remember how I finally decided, but I ultimately chose the witch. I suppose I just thought she was different from everything else I had at the time. (Though if I had to go back in time and choose now, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d choose the pumpkin!) I still thought of the other picks often, I think I even asked my mother if we could try to find them again the following year, but we never did. That little witch became a treasured piece of my collection though, and was probably the first Halloween item that was kept out year-round in my room. She sat by my alarm clock and I often picked her up and wished she were a whole doll or at least a little larger. I’m not sure what ever happened to her, but I’ve always held onto the image of her and her fellow cupcake pick friends.
This also may have been the origin of my love for vintage Halloween decorations.
What made me want to tell this story, you ask?
I recently found a tiny witch doll, by Creepy Doll Emporium, and I had to have her because somehow, she reminded me of my long lost beloved cupcake pick witch.
There’s a part of me that believes this pretty little witch is some sort of reincarnation or evolution of that cupcake pick witch from so long ago. She’s exactly what I had in mind when I wished that witch were a whole doll.
It’s funny, what strange things can sometimes trigger even stranger memories.
Stay spooky, my friends.
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