I have never been a big Halloween person, beyond the fact that I enjoy the Charlie Brown Halloween special. I didn’t even like it that much as a kid (apart from the candy) and as an adult, I have never gotten into it. The last year that I wore a costume for Halloween was my freshman year of college, and it was just a ruse for a different agenda. I did go to the Halloween parade once when I was in New York, but I didn’t get what the big deal about it was. Basically, my conclusion about Halloween is that it is a holiday for children, people who want an excuse to wear something trashy, and people who enjoy looking at people who are wearing something trashy.
However, I will admit that I was very excited as Halloween approached this year. I was excited, because this is the first time in my adult life that I lived in a house where trick-or-treaters would visit. Up until this year I lived in cities, in apartment buildings where trick-or-treating was not going to happen. Now, we live in a neighborhood where, as my neighbor warned, kids are brought in by the carloads for the trick or treating. I was warned that our neighborhood would be overrun with trick-or-treaters. As a childless woman, this warning filled me with excitement. I figured that this would be my opportunity to prove just how likeable I am to children.
Granted, kids like anyone who is offering them a giant bowl of candy. It doesn’t take Mickey Mouse to win a kid over in those circumstances. But, being the new lady in the neighborhood, I felt like I had something to prove, even to those middle school boys who are not easily won over. Tonight, I did just that. I won those kids over when they came to my door. One little boy even told me in a very cute little voice, “This house was the best house for trick or treating.” Of course, I did give a giant handful of candy to that kid because he was dressed as Harry Potter, and that never gets old to me. Harry Potters will always be rewarded with copious amounts of candy at my house.
My other favorite moment was when a group of six boys, probably about 12 years old, came to the door. They said the requisite, “Trick or Treat,” followed up by one, dressed in a Barack Obama mask and suit, saying, “I’m Barack Obama, and I approved this message.” It was hilarious, and so timely being political season and all. I gave those boys extra candy and won them over when I complemented one in the group on his banana costume, joking with him about his brave costume choice for a middle school kid. Twelve-year-old boys find me so much more amusing now that I am not a twelve-year-old girl.
But kids of all ages loved me tonight, not just the once dressed like they were attending Hogwarts or like they belonged in a fruit salad. They laughed at my not so witty jokes and loved the selection of candy that I put together for the evening. Not having kids myself, the whole evening reminded me of the wise words of one Michael Scott:
“I don’t get why parents are always complaining about how tough it is to raise kids. I joke around with ’em, you give ’em pizza, you give ’em candy. You let ’em live their lives. They’re adults for God sake.”
Also, we dressed Knightley up in his fireman’s costume and he hated it (he shook it most of the way off), almost as much as he hated that he couldn’t go to the door and personally greet each trick-or-treater that rang our doorbell.