Here’s the quick story on how I messed up my kid’s Halloween night.
About a month ago he said he wanted to be a “Ghost Knight” and we started to look at references. Evil knights from older movies, zombie knights from Scooby Doo, the Black Knight from Monty Python, undead warriors from Thor Ragnarok, etc. We settled on a general design and I started working on some pieces trying to think of how best to make it work.
The key part was going to be glowing eyes, so his head needed to fit inside where he could see out but make his face hidden from the outside with red lights in a place that wouldn’t block his vision. So we made the helmet first and it was set up to fit over his baseball cap so that the glowing eyes would be above while he could easily look out from below.
Since I’m home with my dad, it was fun to have a little side project to work on when my dad was napping or using his iPad. I decided to make the armor out of cardboard and paint it with metallic spray paint. Velcro would be used to keep the pieces wrapped around his clothes and the only part I ordered was a toy sword that went well with his knight’s style.

At one point, he was coming home and checking progress, often saying ‘this is so cool!’ Oh what’s that parenting committee? You would like to recognize me as Father of the Year already? Well, if you insist!

Uh oh. It seemed to be disintegrating with each step. Below is a dramatization of the costume coming apart.
He was a trooper though, trudging along trying not to make anything else break. Unfortunately the feet were just causing too much trouble, so I said we should rip the feet off his boots to make it easier to walk. He agreed without really saying a word.
As we got close to the first house, he was walking more slowly, his shield now hanging down to his side.
I tried to keep things going.
“Ok here’s the first house! Want to go get some candy?”
The evil knight shook his head no.
“Why not?” The mysterious warrior continued to look at me with his penetrating red gaze, unwilling to share.
“Should we go to the next house?” That got the knight to start moving again, but at a very slow pace.
“Are you ok?” A slight nod.
“Are you upset about the costume?” No response.
“Would you rather go home?” Another slight nod.
While much of the costume was still intact, there were enough random pieces taped or removed that he was just no longer in the spirit of it. He was no longer proud of the costume and had no desire to walk around in something that wasn’t matching the cool ghost knight he had in mind. Ironically, his disappointment defeated me handily, showing just how formidable he could be in battle.
At this point, I have returned my Father of the Year award, and my Parent Fail tracker was beeping triumphantly as I hit what felt like a new personal record.
I apologized that the costume didn’t work out the way we had discussed and we hugged. I asked him about making it up to him and basically settled things down with a nice discussion. On the short drive home, he eventually changed subjects to a new project he started at school and the pain of the evening was fading away.
Still, I fucked up his Halloween. Next year better watch out because I am going ALL OUT and getting that damn award back.