Little Monsters

Convincing her son to embrace Halloween wouldn’t be easy, though Meg wasn’t about to give up yet

- Cilla Moss

Well, Mum’s gone totally overboard,’ Alex grumbled to Tom as I approached the kitchen. ‘There’s a basket of toads in the bathroom.’

‘I know,’ Tom groaned. ‘She’s so embarrassing.’ I grinned. ‘If you think that’s embarrassing,’ I said, sailing into the kitchen, ‘wait until you see what I’ve planned for the front garden!’

The boys picked up their cereal bowls and left.

I sighed and turned to Drew, my youngest, who was on the floor with our poodle. He beamed up at me. At nine, Drew wasn’t much of a talker, but he was my best ally when it came to Halloween. This was the first time we’d thrown a party, and the Frankenstein theme was his idea. He’d seen the film one night and spooked himself to the point where he couldn’t sleep alone.

‘I know you two are getting too grown-up for this stuff,’ I said to Alex and Tom as they prepared to leave, ‘but you’ll be here, won’t you?’

They pretended not to hear me. Cheeky blighters.

After dropping Drew at school, I prepared the house. The mantelpiece held jars of brains eerily lit with fairy lights. I made trays of edible eyeballs.

By the time Drew got home with my husband Jeff, I had on my costume (the bride of Frankenstein), and Mabel the poodle was gnawing on a leg bone (from our plastic skeleton, Frank). Drew looked anxious.