This past Halloween, one of the boys was a werewolf and the other was a zombie. Both costumes feature frightening detailed masks that pull over the head.

Two nights ago, I set them up in the kitchen, one over the paper towel rack and the other over a water bottle. Together with the gloves and other bits of costume, I made the werewolf look like he was crawling off the top of the kitchen table. The zombie looked like he was climbing over the counter.

My plan was to give the boys a scare when they got up in the morning. Instead, I had two appreciative boys waking me up.

“Did you do that, Daddy? That looks really cool.”

“I like the werewolf hand!”

Sheesh. Undeterred, yesterday I set the masks up in the darker corners of their bedrooms, the places where the shadows stretch in the evenings, and nothing looks defined.

This morning, the boys didn’t even mention the masks. Finally, I couldn’t take it any more.

“So, did you see the werewolf?” I asked. “What about the zombie?”

“Yeah,” first one boy shrugged, and then the other. “Wasn’t as good as in the kitchen,” my youngest said.

“You weren’t scared?” I asked. “You didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and see the monsters?”

“Nah.”

Hmph.

Now I’m faced with a quandry. Do I view this as a challenge or do I, as my loving wife suggested, stop trying to terrify my young children?