I just got off the phone with my older son. He sounded a little out of it and I think I may have interrupted breakfast, but I hadn't spoken with him in two days and wanted to catch up. He said that everything was pretty much the same, that they upped his meds and that he was feeling okay. He was a little bummed about not being with his friends tonight until I pointed out that it was cooler being in a mental hospital on Halloween in a Stephen King type of way.
He laughed weakly and said that there's actually a lame costume parade on his unit tonight with most of the kids dressing up as either The Joker or as a "skank" and that there's a surprising number of boys going as skanks and girls as Jokers. I asked him who he was going as and he said, "Myself."
"Maybe we'll all dress up tonight, too," I joked. "Mom could be a witch, your bro could be a clown and I'll be a ghost."
"You're not the ghost type," he said, confirming that I had nailed the rest of our family. "Maybe a werewolf or Frankenstein."
"Thanks, fuckhead," I said. "What about a skeleton?"
"You're too fat," he said.
"I think I'd make a good elf."
"Too gay," he said.
"You know what? Maybe I'll just follow in your footsteps and go as myself," I said. "Or better yet, maybe I'll just go as you!"
"Whatever," he said. "When you come up tomorrow, can you bring more candy?"
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