From Batman to Insurance Man

The first Halloween that my younger son was old enough to decide on his own costume, he chose to be Batman. (Note: the Halloween before that, he was only eight months old, so we chose for him—cat. This possibly explains his obsession with cats to this day.) Choosing to be Batman when you are almost two years old is pretty normal. At that age you know nothing of his tragic backstory and brooding demeanor; you just know that he wears a cool outfit and gets the bad guy. Indeed, dressing up as a superhero for Halloween is pretty commonplace for young boys. Over the years my two sons have been varying incarnations of Batman, Ironman, and Spiderman.

But kids grow out of their superhero phase eventually and branch out to other types of costumes. My younger son has been a character from the Minecraft video game, a cat (again), and a penguin. (I’m talking just a regular penguin, not “The Penguin,” because he would never want to betray his younger Batman self by dressing up as one of his enemies.) This year, however, he went in a completely different direction. About two months before Halloween, he excitedly told us what he was going to dress up as this year—an insurance salesman!

That’s right, our 10-year-old son was done with superheroes and video game characters and animals, and was branching out into the world of finance. He created business cards and an insurance contract (which he keeps on insisting is legally binding) and asked if he could borrow my clipboard. He bought a cheap pair of glasses at the dollar store and popped out the lenses. He donned a suit. He combed his hair (unusual for him) and carried himself in a professional manner. He was officially an insurance salesman.

On Halloween he went door to door with his clipboard hoping to snag candy and clients. For the sake of those generously distributing treats, I hoped nobody actually signed the contract he wrote, which reads in part: “If you are unlucky enough to be reading this right now, I will let you know that there is no turning back now. If you choose to proceed, you might as well meet your financial collapse.” Yes, some kids egg your house, while my kid entraps you with unethical business documents.

Luckily, nobody reported my son to the Better Business Bureau, and his costume proved to be well-liked (albeit a tad perplexing) by most door openers. Ultimately, success on Halloween is measured by candy-haul and in that regard my son made a killing. Yes, the boy will be sugared up for weeks now and he has decided to lose the clipboard and go as something totally different next Halloween—a lawyer. Looks like I’ll be lending him my briefcase.