There’s a fiery debate heating up in my neighborhood’s online group. Two hot topics have people typing furiously: one about a deer culling program that’s led to some pretty intense back-and-forth between conservationists and hunters, with a few venison recipes thrown in for good measure. But the thread that’s really got me hooked? Halloween decorations.
Just minutes after a dad from a neighboring area vented about some of the more gruesome displays creeping onto lawns, I knew it would be a spectacle. His complaint? The decorations were giving his young children nightmares, and he politely asked his neighbors to hide the more gruesome pieces in their backyards.
“Oh boy, this is going to be a rollercoaster!” I told my husband, and boy, was I right. The dad’s plea quickly sparked a flurry of passionate replies. Some parents rallied behind him, agreeing that the decorations were too frightening for little ones. A few even joined in with their own horror stories about their kids’ reactions.
While I understand their concerns, my family has a unique perspective on this issue. When my daughter was just three, we experienced the heartbreaking loss of her younger brother, who was only 16 months old. Every visit to his grave brings forth questions: “What’s under the stone, Mommy?” I always answer truthfully.
Each Halloween since his passing, as skeletons and tombstones start appearing on our street, I’ve gritted my teeth, wondering how these decorations might impact my daughter. But to my relief, she and her younger sister absolutely adore them—especially the spookier ones.
Even if these eerie decorations stirred up painful memories, I would never dream of asking my neighbors to remove them. Life can be tough, and we can’t shield our kids from that reality, no matter how unfair it may seem.
As distasteful as some Halloween decor might be, it’s part of a cherished tradition—a tradition that one concerned dad can’t just wish away. Our role as parents is to help our kids navigate these uncomfortable moments, teaching them to embrace life’s little scares.
Building Resilience, Step by Step
Just a week before the chaos of September 11, 2001, I started a new job at a policy think tank in New York City. After the dust settled, we often joked that it was an “All terrorism, all the time” kind of environment. One of my colleagues, a homeland security expert named Tony, espoused the importance of resilience. He pointed out that terrorism aims to instill fear and disrupt society. A nation that learns to recover quickly from attacks becomes a less appealing target.
The same principle applies to our kids. By exposing them to mild discomfort, we help them develop coping skills. These skills promote resilience, which can protect them from trauma later on. In an insightful essay about PTSD, journalist Jessie Collins wrote about how a sense of helplessness can be deeply traumatic, but with the right training, people can insulate themselves from extreme stress.
Now, I’m no expert like Jessie, but I believe in this idea. When we took a trip to an amusement park recently, I calmly explained to my kids what to do if we got separated. As I scribbled my number on my particularly anxious 4-year-old’s arm, I reassured her, “I don’t think we’ll get lost, but it’s good to know what to do just in case. That way, we can focus on having fun!”
Of course, it’s crucial to consider a child’s developmental stage and what they can handle. But by introducing them to small doses of discomfort now, we prepare them for bigger challenges later—those bumps they’re likely to encounter when we’re not there to hold their hands. My husband, for example, didn’t attend any funerals as a child. His first real experience with death was losing our son, and that shock compounded his grief.
Back to the Neighborhood Debate
Since I began writing this piece, the Halloween decorations discussion has been closed and reopened multiple times in our group. Clearly, people have strong feelings about it. As parents, we want to keep our kids safe and happy, but it’s a bit counterintuitive to think that sometimes, to achieve this, we need to expose them to a bit of risk. I like to think of this exposure as an emotional vaccination—a way to inoculate their young minds against future hardships.
It’s not easy, and yes, it can be downright scary—perhaps even scarier than some of those Halloween decorations out there.
In summary, while the debate about Halloween decorations continues, it’s crucial for us as parents to expose our children to the realities of life. By allowing them to face small fears, we help build resilience for the challenges they’ll face in the future.