year."
Gunther's face lit all up when we explained trick-or-treating to him. We had to gloss over the candy part, knowing Gunther wouldn't eat candy. "They'll give bananas to you, Gunther, I'm sure of it," Veronica told him. And to me she whispered, "You and me, we'll eat his candy."
"When I was a little boy, I was a ghost one Halloween," Mr. Bigelow said. "My mother just hung a sheet over me."
"You wanta be a ghost, Gunther?" I asked. But Gunther shook his head no. He was opinionated about such things.
"How about a clown?" Sweet-Ho suggested. "I believe I could turn his red sleeper suit into a clown costume, and we could make a pointed hat to go with it."
But Gunther shook his head no to a clown.
"Maybe, Gunther," I said, "you could wear your new green coat and hat, and we could make you into a dill pickle. We could make it all warty looking somehow."
But he said no.
"I know!" Veronica said. "We still have all my old dance recital costumes. How about a ballet dancer, Gunther?"
And Gunther began to grin. "With dancing shoes, too," he said. "And a magic wand with a star."
So Sweet-Ho scooted up to the attic where the old clothes were, and she came back with the bag of old costumes. We dressed up Gunther right there in the middle of the living room, first in pink tightsâthey bagged at the knees because they was too big, but Sweet-Ho said she could tighten them up a bit with a needle and threadâand then in the little blue net skirt with a billion layers so it stuck out all around and he looked like a flower.
"It's called a tutu," Veronica explained importantly.
"Too-too," Gunther said, and wiggled his behind.
Then he sat on his daddy's lap and Mr. Bigelow put the old pink toe shoes on him, and laced the satin ribbons up his legs over the tights.
Gunther fell at first when he tried walking, because
the shoes was too bigâand toe shoes are hard to walk in anyway, I know because I've tried itâbut then when he got the hang of it, he held his arms sticking out the way he thought a ballet dancer should, and he pranced around the room.
"I have to record this for posterity," Mr. Bigelow said, after he was able to stop laughing. He went and got his camera and took pictures.
The flashbulbs went off again and again as Gunther posed, dancing and stumbling, in the foolish tutu. Then, after we took the costume off him, Gunther posed again, all serious, in his new green outfit. Next Veronica and me put our new sweaters on for pictures. And finally, even though she got all embarrassed, Sweet-Ho agreed to put hers on, too, and he took one of the four of us together: Gunther on Sweet-Ho's lap, and Veronica and me arranged one on each side.
Mr. Bigelow said we looked like a bouquet of flowers.
That night before I went to bed, I put my yellow sweater, folded up, into the drawer where I keep my specialest things. In it I have a dried-up flower from Gnomie's grave; Sweet-Ho let me take it with me after the funeral back at the Collyer's Run Baptist Church. (I only got a B+ on my "My Home" composition after I handed it in. I would have got an A but it was dumb of me to say that my grandmother was lifeless. If I had used the thesaurus better, I would've chosen something else. There was lots of good stuff for "dead". "Depart this life", for one, or "Take one's last sleep". I'm certain I would've got an A if I had said my grandmother had taken her last sleep.)
Also in my drawer was my dictionary, and the thesaurus that Sweet-Ho got me down at Highriver Books and Cards when I begged. I have the blue ribbon I won for fifty-yard dash at the school track meet last spring. And two photographs of Sweet-Ho with Ginger Starkey, sitting with their heads close together, one with both of them smiling, the other with their tongues sticking out, looking foolish. There was four in the strip, which they posed for in a Wool-worth's booth right after they got married, but Sweet-Ho cut it in half and gave me the bottom two. She kept
Gunther's face lit all up when we explained trick-or-treating to him. We had to gloss over the candy part, knowing Gunther wouldn't eat candy. "They'll give bananas to you, Gunther, I'm sure of it," Veronica told him. And to me she whispered, "You and me, we'll eat his candy."
"When I was a little boy, I was a ghost one Halloween," Mr. Bigelow said. "My mother just hung a sheet over me."
"You wanta be a ghost, Gunther?" I asked. But Gunther shook his head no. He was opinionated about such things.
"How about a clown?" Sweet-Ho suggested. "I believe I could turn his red sleeper suit into a clown costume, and we could make a pointed hat to go with it."
But Gunther shook his head no to a clown.
"Maybe, Gunther," I said, "you could wear your new green coat and hat, and we could make you into a dill pickle. We could make it all warty looking somehow."
But he said no.
"I know!" Veronica said. "We still have all my old dance recital costumes. How about a ballet dancer, Gunther?"
And Gunther began to grin. "With dancing shoes, too," he said. "And a magic wand with a star."
So Sweet-Ho scooted up to the attic where the old clothes were, and she came back with the bag of old costumes. We dressed up Gunther right there in the middle of the living room, first in pink tightsâthey bagged at the knees because they was too big, but Sweet-Ho said she could tighten them up a bit with a needle and threadâand then in the little blue net skirt with a billion layers so it stuck out all around and he looked like a flower.
"It's called a tutu," Veronica explained importantly.
"Too-too," Gunther said, and wiggled his behind.
Then he sat on his daddy's lap and Mr. Bigelow put the old pink toe shoes on him, and laced the satin ribbons up his legs over the tights.
Gunther fell at first when he tried walking, because
the shoes was too bigâand toe shoes are hard to walk in anyway, I know because I've tried itâbut then when he got the hang of it, he held his arms sticking out the way he thought a ballet dancer should, and he pranced around the room.
"I have to record this for posterity," Mr. Bigelow said, after he was able to stop laughing. He went and got his camera and took pictures.
The flashbulbs went off again and again as Gunther posed, dancing and stumbling, in the foolish tutu. Then, after we took the costume off him, Gunther posed again, all serious, in his new green outfit. Next Veronica and me put our new sweaters on for pictures. And finally, even though she got all embarrassed, Sweet-Ho agreed to put hers on, too, and he took one of the four of us together: Gunther on Sweet-Ho's lap, and Veronica and me arranged one on each side.
Mr. Bigelow said we looked like a bouquet of flowers.
That night before I went to bed, I put my yellow sweater, folded up, into the drawer where I keep my specialest things. In it I have a dried-up flower from Gnomie's grave; Sweet-Ho let me take it with me after the funeral back at the Collyer's Run Baptist Church. (I only got a B+ on my "My Home" composition after I handed it in. I would have got an A but it was dumb of me to say that my grandmother was lifeless. If I had used the thesaurus better, I would've chosen something else. There was lots of good stuff for "dead". "Depart this life", for one, or "Take one's last sleep". I'm certain I would've got an A if I had said my grandmother had taken her last sleep.)
Also in my drawer was my dictionary, and the thesaurus that Sweet-Ho got me down at Highriver Books and Cards when I begged. I have the blue ribbon I won for fifty-yard dash at the school track meet last spring. And two photographs of Sweet-Ho with Ginger Starkey, sitting with their heads close together, one with both of them smiling, the other with their tongues sticking out, looking foolish. There was four in the strip, which they posed for in a Wool-worth's booth right after they got married, but Sweet-Ho cut it in half and gave me the bottom two. She kept
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