My Toddler and Chomps, the Animatronic Halloween Monster

A guest essay by Nat Hrvatin.

He appeared in August during a heat wave. Good lord, I either thought or said aloud. Either way, I definitely rolled my eyes. It was ninety degrees in Northeast Ohio and the Halloween decorations were already on display. With my daughters, ages three and one, seated together in the shopping cart, I anticipated tears and possibly screams from at least one of them—or more likely, both. So, I told my toddler to keep her eyes on me. “There’s a Halloween display behind you, sweetie, and it might be a little scary,” I warned, proud of myself for anticipating her needs.

But in doing so, I forgot about the unspoken law that all toddlers answer to, that is, this instinctual paradox: if you tell a toddler not to look at something, then they’re going to want to look at that thing even more.

My toddler’s head turned almost immediately. Instead of crying or screaming, she smiled. She laughed. She asked me to push the cart closer so she could see her “friend.” I made a mental note to Google “Is my child too friendly” and “How to instill a healthy dose of fear without scarring my kid” later. But for now, I was curious to see how this interaction would play out. Also, given its proximity to the cheese aisle, the monster was in my shopping path.

My daughter’s excitement grew as we wove through the snack aisles and tables of clothing items. My youngest wasn’t the slightest bit aware of the display, as she was fixated on the giant Costco ceiling fans. I stopped in front of a decorative archway that featured two haunted house turrets and an assortment of ghosts, bats, and pumpkins, all sparkling with twinkling lights. In the center of the display, there was a seven-foot animatronic Frankenstein’s monster, with patchwork pants, shackles, and LED eyes. As we walked past, we set off its motion sensor. It began groaning as it moved its jaw and arms up and down. This, for sure, would get a reaction out of my kid. I was ready to wrap her in my arms, to soothe her with a “It’s okay, it isn’t real, honey.” But she didn’t need any comforting, because she wasn’t scared. No, not the slightest bit scared.