Halloween; The magical time of year when kids dress up as…whatever the hell they want, from Disney princesses to literal Coca-Cola bottles.

In Scotland, though, where Halloween as we know it has its origins, things were a wee bit different. Let’s take a look at Samhain, the ancient Celtic festival from which Halloween sprang. And let’s face it—no one was wearing a tiara or pretending to be a fizzy drink back then. Imagine telling a Celtic warrior to dress up as something “sparkly” and prepare for some intense staring.

The Dark, Spine-Chilling Roots of Halloween:

Samhain (pronounced “SOW-in”) was a time when the Celts marked the end of harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter—a season associated with death. They believed that on the night of October 31st, the line between the living and the dead got a little blurry, like that one foggy morning on the Loch. Spirits, fairies, and a few malevolent otherworldly creatures were thought to roam the earth, so the Celts would disguise themselves in animal skins, paint their faces, and generally make themselves look just as terrifying as the things they feared. This was not a time for fake smiles or sparkly tutus. It was gritty, primal, and as far from Instagram-worthy as you could get.

People would set bonfires (that’s right, massive flames—take note, modern-day fire safety enthusiasts!) and leave offerings of food and drink outside their homes to appease these roaming spirits. The Celts knew how to keep those ghostly interlopers happy: Here, take this mutton pie and let me keep my sheep, thanks very much. And the costumes? Not whimsical or ironic, I’ll tell you that.

Now, Enter My Children, Wielding Sparkles Instead of Scythes:

In a fascinating twist of cultural evolution, here we are today. Halloween has morphed from a night of pagan spookiness into a candy-fuelled costume bonanza. If my teenagers had their way, they’d be out there in costumes that are about as terrifying as a day at a theme park. As a home guard medic, I’m fully qualified to make up realistic wounds, fake blood, and disturbingly lifelike bruises that would make any zombie apocalypse survivor green with envy. But do my kids want that? No, thank you. Why take Mum’s expertise when you can slap on a face gem and call yourself a “zombie cheerleader”?

It’s not like I haven’t tried. Oh, I’ve tried. “How about we make it realistic this year? Some intestines hanging out, maybe a severed limb?” But no.

Princesses and Cola Bottles? At Halloween?

I’ll be honest: there’s just something surreal about seeing kids dressed up as fizzy drinks and “cute animals” on Halloween. The spirits of Samhain would probably shake their heads in bewilderment at a child decked out as a can of cola or (my personal favourite) a “happy little princess.” Samhain was all about blending in with the creepy crawlies, the shades and shadows, and here we are, blending in with the beverage aisle at Tesco.

So, what happened to that raw, eerie spirit of Samhain? Well, it got Americanized, as did many things, bless them. When Scottish and Irish immigrants brought their traditions over to the U.S., a few tweaks were made, and, gradually, Halloween costumes became more about pop culture and less about giving granny a heart attack. I mean, I do appreciate a bit of irony and whimsy, but come on—where’s the sense of danger?

In Conclusion: Why Won’t My Kids Take My Help?

I’ve tried every year to up the realism, bringing the ancient spirit of Samhain back, one dripping fake artery at a time. But my kids remain resolutely committed to “just a little eyeliner and some glitter.” A home guard medic’s talents go unappreciated once again. Maybe it’s my fate, like some twisted Celtic curse, to watch my kids prance around as something “adorable” each October 31st.

But someday…someday, they’ll realize the horror and glory of a properly ghastly Halloween costume. And when they do, I’ll be ready with my fake blood, plastic entrails, and an arsenal of disturbingly realistic makeup skills to make any spirit proud.

Until then, happy Samhain (and may your costumes not come in a resealable, glitter-infused package).

I have black coffee to sip and sarcastic remarks to throw like glitter.

/L