From shivers to shrieks: Spooky stories for Halloween

A lot of people enjoy being scared. I'm not sure why that is, but the plethora of scary movies, scary books, scary television shows — and scary vampires and zombies everywhere — confirm that to be true.

Even my grandsons like to be scared. Sort of.

Bubby and Mac like sort of scary stuff that sort of scares them a little. Especially sort of scary Halloween stuff. And sort of scary Halloween books, in particular. In fact, when I visited my grandsons in July, we went to the library one day and Bubby made a B line for the Halloween picture books. In July!

(Of course, his mom contributed to the early enjoyment of all things spooky. Megan loves Halloween picture books, too, and checked out a huge stack of sort-of-spine-tingling tales for her and the boys to enjoy. In July.)

The joy my grandboys — and their mother, my daughter — get out of Halloween books is part of the reason I was delighted to receive (free for review) several Halloween books from Candlewick Press. I'll be packing a few of them — the sort of scary ones, at least scary for wee ones — in my Grandma Bag to share with Bubby and Mac when I visit next week.

Another reason I was delighted to get the spooky stories? So I could share them with you here today.

(Don't be afraid... they're mostly just sort of scary. I promise.)

Vampire Baby by Kelly Bennett, illustrated by Paul Meisel ($15.99, Ages 4-7) Mac is going to love, love, love this one, as he's been experiencing a few bites from one of his fellow toddlers at his babysitter's. I'm thrilled there's a trailer for it, so you can get a real taste (har, har) for this treat.

Ghost in the House by Ammi-Joan Paquette, illustrated by Adam Record ($15.99, ages 3-7 years) A rhythmic tale where the spooky stuff grows in number with each turn of the page.
From Candlewick: When a little ghost goes slip-sliding down the hallway, he suddenly hears... a groan! Turns out it’s only a friendly mummy, who shuffles along with the ghost, until they encounter... a monster! As the cautious explorers continue, they find a surprise at every turn — and add another adorably ghoulish friend to the count. But you’ll never guess who is the scariest creature in the house!

Filbert, the Good Little Fiend by Hiawyn Oram, illustrated by Jimmy Liao ($15.99, ages 3-7) I love this book so, because Filbert makes me think of Bubby and the angel character makes me think of Mac. I have a feeling they will agree (or fight over who's who; we'll see).
From Candlewick: Daddy and Mommy Fiend want their little Filbert to be gruesome and ghastly, but he won’t trample or terrify, roar or holler. He’d much rather help an old lady with her bags or go bird-watching. What are they to do with him? When Filbert starts school, he quickly learns that good behavior isn’t tolerated in class, and he is banished outside until he can act like a proper little fiend. Suddenly a little angel appears, flying fast and furious until... bump! Could this naughty Angel-School dropout be just the friend Filbert needs? Could they find a way together to make everyone accept them as they are?

The Music of Zombies by Vivian French, illustrated by Ross Collins ($15.99, ages 8-12) See? I told you: Zombies are everywhere. But this book seems like a must-have for preteens who enjoy sort of scary tales. I envision the entire series (this is the fifth Tale from the Five Kingdoms) being a great gift for the holidays.
From Candlewick: Prince Albion expects a unique occasion when he starts planning Cockenzie Rood Day to celebrate his kingdom—and himself. What he doesn’t expect is boppings on the head and kidnapping, all because a zombie wants to play his fiddle in the talent contest. With a misbehaving path, a romantic bat, and a greedy butler to set them on their way, Gracie Gillypot and Prince Marcus are off on their fifth adventure. It’s up to a Trueheart, a resourceful prince, and Gubble the troll to stop the zombie before he does some giant damage to the Five Kingdoms.

Feral Nights by Cynthia Leitich Smith ($17.99, ages 14 years and up) This is one I plan to read in the nights leading up to Halloween. The back-cover quote from The Horn Book calling it "A hearty meal for the thinking vampire reader" has me intrigued... and ready to be sort of scared.
From Candlewick: When sexy, free-spirited werecat Yoshi tracks his sister, Ruby, to Austin, he discovers that she is not only MIA, but also the key suspect in a murder investigation. Meanwhile, Werepossum Clyde and human Aimee have set out to do a little detective work of their own, sworn to avenge the brutal killing of werearmadillo pal Travis. When all three seekers are snared in an underground kidnapping ring, they end up on a remote island inhabited by an unusual (even by shifter standards) species and its cult of worshippers. Their hosts harbor a grim secret: staging high-profile safaris for wealthy patrons with evil pedigrees, which means that at least one newcomer to the island is about to be hunted. As both wereprey and werepredator fight to stay alive, it’s up to mild-mannered Clyde — a perennial sidekick — to summon the hero within. Can he surprise even himself?

Find out more about these books and others at Candlewick.com.

Best wishes for a splendidly spooky weekend!

Disclosure: The books above were sent to me free for review. Opinions and anecdotes are my own.

Today's question:

What is the last scary — or sort of scary — book you read?

Picture this: An inch of inspiration

Brianna pointed out this inchworm on my porch the other day.

So I grabbed my camera and made the most of the little guy.

I'm doing my best to live life in inches.

Every once in a while I succeed.

Today's question:

Has your week so far been a cinch or has it been hard?

Wherein Grandma rethinks the family bed

Our kids climb into bed with Jim and me each morning. Their sole goal? To get us to rise and shine, get up and give them breakfast.

Now, that may seem strange considering our three daughters are adults and don't live in our house. But it's not our human kids I'm talking about, it's our cat kids.

Early each morning, Abby and Isabel hop onto the foot of the bed and meow their way all the way up to our heads, demanding we notice them, love them, and, most importantly, get out of the freakin' bed and feed them. Abby in particular is the alarm kitty. If I ignore her pleas, she heads on over to my iPhone cord on the night stand and starts chewing on it, for she knows darn well that will have me up and at her in a split second.

Yesterday morning when "the girls" got into bed with us, I mentioned to Jim how crazy it would be if we let our dogs into the bed with us, too. Mickey and Lyla have their own bedroom, though, with a baby gate put up each night so they can't get out — which means they can't climb into our bed in the morning, like the cats do.

"Just think if they did," I said to Jim. "We'd have all our kids in bed with us."

Which led me to immediately mention that our real kids — our human kids, our daughters — never climbed into bed with us in the mornings. Never.

Why is that? I wondered out loud. It's not like the girls weren't allowed in our bedroom, weren't welcome to join us if they felt the need.

I remember one night in particular when Andrea definitely felt the need. It was during the summer between her fifth- and sixth-grade years at school, a scary transitional time that caused her to have nightmares. After several failed attempts to calm her fears in her own bed one night, she took me up on the offer to sleep in a makeshift bed on the floor beside ours.

That didn't work. Andie still couldn't sleep, still was afraid.

So I told her we'd turn on the television in our bedroom to the Cartoon Network — at a very low volume — to take her mind off scary things.

Regardless of volume level, though, the George of the Jungle Marathon running on the network that night was the stuff of nightmares, at least for Jim and me. ♪George, George, George of the Jungle, watch out for that tree!♪ kept us awake — and unhappy — for hours.

After a several episodes, we'd had enough. Andie apparently had, too, for she didn't balk too much when I led her back to her own bed. Where she did finally fall asleep.

Jim and I, though, couldn't fall asleep for we couldn't get ♪George, George, George of the Jungle♪ out of our heads, out of our dreams.

Never again, we told ourselves... and our girls. To this day, mentions of George of the Jungle elicit groans and grins from Jim, Andrea and myself as we recall the nightmarish marathon.

Back in those childrearing years, I was thankful the girls rarely asked to sleep in our bed and that they never woke us in the mornings by crawling under the covers with us. But now it saddens me.

It saddens me because as a grandma, I realize what Jim and I missed. The mornings when I'm visiting my grandsons and they crawl into bed with me — which is every morning when I'm at their house... and usually before the sun even considers creeping up over the horizon — are some of the sweetest moments shared with my beloved boys.

Which is one of the more important things Jim and I failed to learn when our girls were little.

There's no going back, though, no way to remedy that error we made with our children. But we can, as grandparents, make the most of the moments when our grandchildren crawl into bed with us.

I will do exactly that with open arms next week, when I'll be sleeping one room away from Bubby and Mac.

Next week I'll have four mornings to relish the slow creaking open of Gramma's bedroom door as the boys together peek in at me, then the pitter-patter of little feet scampering over to my bed while I pretend I'm asleep. Then I'll lift the covers, make room for Bubby on one side, Mac on the other. We'll snuggle for just a bit, and once they've done all the snuggling their wiggly little boy bodies can handle, we'll discuss our dreams from the night, recite our plans for the day.

I didn't get it with my girls, but I now realize with my boys that such times truly are the best part of waking up when there are children in the house.

As a parent, the family bed was never my thing, for I didn't want to be continually awakened by little kids.

As a grandparent, I can't imagine any better wake-up call.

Today's question:

Did your kids climb into bed with you in the mornings? Do your grandkids?

On Andy Garcia and me

The AARP Life@50+ Expo has come and gone, and I must say it far exceeded my expectations. So much to see and do and learn.

Though the connections made — and the dogs met — were delightful and well worth the trip, my favorite experience there was hands down the Movies for Grownups screening of "At Middleton," which stars Andy Garcia and Vera Farmiga.

You may recall the trailer for the film, included in this post here. (And if you don't recall the trailer or didn't watch it then, go watch it. Seriously.)

You may also recall from that post that I mentioned Andy Garcia would be at the screening. Which he was.

After the lovely movie that I enjoyed from beginning to end, Andy Garcia, along with director Adam Rodgers and Glenn German — co-writer with Rodgers of the sweet story of two parents who meet during their children's college tour — took the stage for an "At Middleton" Q&A session with the audience.

Glenn German, Adam Rodgers and Andy Garcia

Andy Garcia listens to an adoring audience member.Mike wranglers roamed the crowd, giving those in attendance the chance to ask questions. I so wanted to ask who chose the musical selections integral to the story, having seen Arturo Sandoval's name in the beginning credits (whom Andy Garcia played in a 2000 HBO film on Sandoval). But... though I can write for crowds, I sure as heck can't speak in front of crowds. At all.

So I kept my mouth shut, listened to others, and shot frame after frame of the handsome men on stage.

Then the topic of distribution of the independent film and support for it came up. Suddenly there was some mention of the support for the film on a site called Grandma's Briefs, with Andy Garcia saying something about there being a special request and... something else I can't remember at all because I somehow found myself standing and waving my arms and declaring to the men on the stage, That's me, I'm Grandma's Briefs!

And then Andy Garcia asked me to come up front.

Oh, <cuss>! I said in my head.

"Oh, no," I said out loud.

I quickly asked the gentleman behind me to please take my camera and get some photos, someone thrust a microphone into my hand (Here, take this!) and I headed up front.

Right into the arms of Andy Garcia.

Unbelievable.

I wanted to say, "Wow! What a wonderful, touching film!"

I wanted to say, "You are a good, good man, Mr. Garcia!" (I think heis. In part because he and his wife have been married as long as Jim and I, and his family is top priority. Need more? Google him.)

And I wanted to say — once we hugged and I melted into his unbelievably soft jacket that simply felt like home — "Gee whiz! Let's just stay right here and hug all freakin' day!"

I didn't say any of those things.

Instead, I said, "The other grandmas are going to be so jealous!" Yes, at that very special moment, I thought of you all.

Andy Garcia kissed me on the forehead, he thanked me for my support. And I just babbled: "Thank you, thank you, thank YOU...."

(As I mentioned, I can't speak for <cuss> in front of crowds.)

But Mr. Garcia was kind and seemingly genuine as he hugged me again — comfy, cozy hugs that, well, just felt like home. And we posed for pictures.

Then I somehow managed my way back to my seat — after a quick hug to Sue, the PR rep taking photos... whom I also thanked profusely. The gentleman who used my camera gave it back, I thanked him several times, as well, then I sat back down and tried to stop shaking.

A few questions from the audience later — what the Q was or the A that followed, I couldn't tell ya — then the whole thing was over. Just like that.

Poof!

Surreal.

When the lights came up and the crowd began exiting, the first thing I did was dial my husband. It's the normal response when a long-time married woman hugs another man, right? Tell your husband?

I simply had to share with Jim.

And Jim was immediately jealous — jealous that he didn't get to hug Andy Garcia!

But as he always is, my husband was thrilled for me.

"Was it a good hug?" he asked, as he and I put a lot of stock in a person's hug, agree that so much of one's character is revealed in their hugs.

I confirmed that it was.

And it certainly was.

Such a wonderful hug from a good, good man.

One truly unexpected, truly unforgettable moment.

Thank you, Andy Garcia.

Today's question:

Whose hugs feel like home to you?