When I was a kid, I used to dream about Halloween. I wasn't that excited about dressing up--it was the candy. Weeks before Halloween, my sister and I would draw up maps of our neighborhood and plan our route, readrafting it several times to make sure that we could maximize our time. As soon as I got home, we'd dump out our candy on the floor and sort it: chocolates, caramels, hard candy, gummy candy. There were always some tough calls: does a blow pop go in the gum or sucker pile? After sorting and counting our haul, I'd tuck my bag of candy by the side of my bed. Somehow I just slept better having that candy to gaze at. It was pretty sad to grow up and have to leave that trick-or-treating behind.
Last year, friend T. and I came up with a plan to take her kid trick-or-treating. He would be two, so old enough to be a legitimate trick-or-treater, but young enough to not notice when we stole all of his candy. We had pretty elaborate plans about what neighborhoods and what costumes would get us the most candy. T. almost backed out on me when Halloween finally arrived, but I wouldn't let her. So we arranged to have dinner and go trick-or-treating with our colleague A and her son.
A's son was an ace at trick-or-treating. He was very polite and made sure to tell everyone "Happy Halloween" at least three times. He made sure to let us know that we should only say "trick or treat" and never, never "smell my feet." He was very charming. T's son, not so much. It took him a few houses to figure out what trick-or-treating was all about, but once he figured out the game he was committed. There was nothing shy about this kid. When the door opened, he just demanded, "Candy!" Once he'd been given a piece, he demanded "More!" He needed a little training. At the beginning of the night, I had to remind him not to pick the smarties, but by the end he was picking the chocolate.
This neighborhood was the shangri-la I never found as a child, where nearly everyone gave out chocolate and one house even gave the much-rumored, but never discovered full-size bar. One house was even giving hot, homemade donuts to the adults.
Since T's son is not allowed to be a sugar fiend, I got to take home the stash. I'll be sleeping well tonight.
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4 comments:
not allowed to be a sugar fiend: isn't that a violation of his civil rights? as a kid, I mean?
Shameless but excellent story. Sometimes my kids' dad would take them to neighborhoods on the east side in pursuit of the full-size bar, and I'm pretty sure they actually did get some.
Son got a full-sized bar last night. I even let him keep it. I helped him sort (the most fun part), and then he got to choose some stuff to keep (he wanted the skittles and the nerds and a selection of chocolate). The rest of it was shipped of to the Writing Center with Middlebrow. Now Middlebrow owes Son a trip to the toy store for one action hero: the going price of giving up your candy.
I think it is a violation of kid civil rights. I ate a shitload of candy as a kid and I turned out all right. I even like vegetables.
I did get a full size bar--actually because C. was so greedy and demanding, I got two.
I am shameless, but I don't care.
Also, I tagged you--see my blog. Sorry--blame the nablopomo madness.
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