Well, it was my first one as an adult, anyway, and here’s what I learned: Halloween is no joke in the suburbs. It’s sort of hard core. From the house and yard decorations to the amount of candy one needs to distribute, we were not entirely prepared.
Who knew that people decorated their homes in our town as if there was a blue ribbon to be handed out, or as though Martha Stewart was coming through with a camera crew? Not us — we thought our three little yard scarecrows and an uncarved pumpkin were cute.
Who knew that nine large bags of candy was amateurish? Not us. Sorry, neighborhood children, we suck.
But those shortcomings aside, we had a great day. Nobody pitched a fit over wearing a costume, which was a good start.
Not even the dog, though he did mumble something about abject humiliation, animal cruelty and finding a new home. But we resolved our differences.
This was the first year our son really understood the whole trick-or-treat gig and the candy payoff. By the third house, he was a seasoned pro.
And the baby caught on quickly. She’s in the “Let me run and find danger” phase, so she was on the move — as much as her giant lamb suit would allow.
We finally slowed her down for a milk break.
And with our loot, we went home to comb through our treats. And by “our treats,” of course I mean some very strategic skimming on my part. (How come nobody gives out Mounds anymore? Those are my favorite. Not a single one in the bag.)
And then there was the sad realization that our nine bags of candy would only last about another hour in prime time. Next year, we’ll be ready.
Just wait until the trick-or-treaters start showing up a half hour before Halloween officially begins and lingering around until an hour AFTER it ends…a tip, if I may…turn all the lights off in your house once you’re out of candy! Keeps the errant vampires and Teletubbies far, far away!