This is what I think about that: Chillun's at 13:19

This halloween, I finally broke out of my traditional annual introvert shell by going out to Regeneration's Halloween event, Trunk or Treat.

Because Oakland in general is not a safe place to go around the neighborhood at night (much less also knocking on random neighbor's doors), Regeneration hosts an alternative evening in their parking lot and gym. Vehicles replace houses - trunks are filled with candy - and carnival-esque activities are held in the gym.

I was roped into the responsibility of hosting a mask-making table this year. Initially I was stressed about such responsibilty - I have to be artistic and creative and funny the whole evening? what if the kid asks me for a dragon mask? A butterfly? How can I express that in mask medium? - until Erin suggested the kids make the masks themselves. Which is the format Christina had in mind when she asked me, anyway. I'm not sure why I thought otherwise.

Hosting that table was very conducive to interacting with the kids, though initially, interaction did not cross my mind as I raced to keep up production with the demand for mask templates. When I discovered that both the five-to-eleven-year-olds and I were capable of coloring and talking at the same time, I started asking questions and starting conversations.

"What's your favorite candy?"
"What is your costume?"
"Are you gonna share with your parents?"

Speaking my cute/children's voice (which is half an octave higher than normal, and at a slower rate of speech), I started to realize how easily the questions and comments came, and I felt like I was following certain unspoken rules of engagement- compliment their costume no matter how much effort they (their parents) put into it, call every girl's costume cute and every boy's costume awesome, give overwhelmingly positive critiques of their masks (which were random blotches of color, though I'll be the first to day I'm not sure I could have done any better), etc.

I'd like to think being able to hold a conversation with kids, as shallow as it was, is a mark of good children skills. But speaking to them in these governed phrases seems insincere, like as an actor or vocalist and I felt like I was watching myself. I was now repeating the inane, obvious cliches I had heard other people use in their babble to kids. If I had only witnessEd people treat kids more maturely, would I also engage with them differently?

Yes, it makes me happy to see them happy. But the teacher in me constantly asks, "How can I teach them something from this?"

I found the parents easy to talk to as well, since we could talk about their kids. Plus, they were the only ones who got my costume. If an 8-year-old-asked me what I was, I just said, "It'll be funny when you're older."

P.S. My costume was: a formal apology.