Sexy nurse costumes are not OK for kids
Last year, my daughter, 10, went trick or treating with her best friend — another girl the same age. My daughter went as an astronaut, which she thought was fun. Unfortunately, her friend went dressed as a “sexy nurse” — a costume I can only describe as suggestive. I was horrified. A year later, here we go again; my daughter is going as a veterinarian, taking our dog as a prop. But her friend is going as a stewardess — and I can guess what that will look like. Do I let her go with her friend, or be a party pooper? Halloween was once for kids. The principle was straightforward; kids donned scary costumes and went begging for candy, while raising a little hell on the side. One year, my buddies and I filled the holes on the local golf course with sand; another year, when I was the holy man in a small prairie town, the local brats lifted my Toyota into the entrance of the church and left it there. Such gaiety. Such fun. Along the way, however, presumably around the time Generation-Something decided it was stupid to grow up before one’s 40th natal day, young adults decided they simply couldn’t stop dressing up on Halloween; the holiday became an all-ages event, excluding only grumpy old farts like me. And something else happened, too. Young women discovered that the only thing more fun than looking scary would be channelling their inner slut, getting out the fishnets, and trotting around in costumes that would induce, in men my age, myocardial infarction.
I’m sure there are a thousand reasons why this trend is reprehensible. It’s just that, sitting here right now, they all elude me. It looks like fun: a bit of late-autumnal titillation that, on the global scale of worries, ranks below Donald Trump’s hair.
But there is a caveat, and it’s simple. If you’re still young enough to go door-to-door, you’re way, way too young to wear a costume that shouts come-hither. Just because adults emulate porn stars on Halloween doesn’t mean it’s OK for children to do so.
Walking around darkened streets at 11 years old, dressed like semipornographic flight attendants and asking “Coffee, tea or me” is neither wise nor acceptable.
That said, however, let your daughter accompany her friend. Eleven-years-old is a fragile time in the mother-daughter relationship, and the last thing you want is to make her feel you don’t trust her or respect her wisdom.
Before she hits the street, however, have a serious sit-down; share your concerns about both the morality and the safety risks associated with what her friend wore last year, and might wear tonight. Be as nonjudgmental as possible, but be sure your daughter understands your concerns and fears.
Make her take her cellphone or borrow yours; let her know you’re on the other end of the line all evening.
You’ve got to trust your kid. She’s shown good judgment in her costume selection, and shouldn’t be penalized for the recklessness of her friend, much less her friend’s mother. But you’ve got to be forthright with her as well.
I hope your dog is a Doberman. Send your questions to star.ethics@yahoo.ca