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This Halloween trick is no treat after all
(by Christine Thome - October 26, 2011)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
This Halloween trick is no treat after all
There are some holidays that get better as your children age. Halloween is one of them.
Now that my kids are all teenagers, I am no longer coerced to hit the Halloween store in September to pick out the perfect costume, only to have them change their minds three times before Oct. 31. I don't have to bake hundreds of spider cupcakes for a bunch of school-age kids who don't need any more sugar. And I don't have to walk my kids through rain, sleet or snow to take them trick-or-treating.
But that wasn't the case 10 years ago.
After baking for four different classes, racing to each class to help each of my children put on their Halloween costumes and realizing too late it wasn't a very good idea to allow third-graders, hyped up on copious amounts of sugar, carve pumpkins on their own, I was absolutely exhausted.
"Please, please take the kids trick-or-treating," I begged by husband, John.
"I'd rather stay home and hand out adult treats," he said, referring to the cooler of beer we provide for good friends who stop by our house, as he helped himself to one.
"Go drink someone else's treats," I cried.
"Let's flip a coin," he said. "Winner stays home, loser takes the kids."
My head beat his tail, and I felt like I had won the lottery.
"Kids, hurry up!" I yelled up the stairs. "Daddy is taking you trick-or-treating!"
But as I looked at John, I could see the wheels turning in his head, and I knew this would probably be the last year he would take the kids trick-or-treating on his own. You see, if John really doesn't want to do something, his mantra is, "Do it once. Screw it up. Never get asked to do it again."
Bounding down the stairs came our young children -- a unicorn, Spider Man and the twins dressed as a strawberry and a grape, or, as we called them, fruit salad.
As I forced them to eat a quick sloppy Joe before leaving the house, John sat down with them and went over the strategy for the night.
"OK, guys," he said seriously. "I grew up here, so I know the best streets to hit for maximum collection. If I'm going to go with you, you have to follow my directions, but I promise you will get more candy than you've ever had in your whole life."
"The most candy of my whole life?" Spider Man asked in awe.
"Absolutely, but there can be no crying, no whining and no lagging. I won't carry you. Understand?"
I thought they might salute him, but they all ditched their dinners, grabbed their candy bags and screamed, "Let's go!"
"John, you cannot drag these kids all over," I warned him. "Fruit salad is only 5 years old. They're going to get tired."
"Relax, honey, you asked me to help out, and I'm going to. I've got it under control," he said as he headed out.
Meanwhile, I decided to make the most of my night. With a glass of wine, I sat on my front porch, oooed and aahhhed over the cute costumes, chatted with neighbors and shoved a few candy bars in my mouth whenever the foot traffic slowed.
But as 8:00 neared and Halloween was almost over, my family was still nowhere in sight. Finally, about a half hour later, I heard the familiar whine of fruit salad crying, "Daddy! We're tired! Carry us!"
As they headed up the sidewalk, all but John looked like they had barely survived a death march. Absolutely exhausted from walking, their costumes were torn and muddy. However, true to his word, each was carrying enough candy to feed a small country.
"Didn't I tell you I would get you the most candy ever?" John beamed as the kids collapsed on the living room floor.
"I don't care if I don't get any candy next year," my unicorn cried. "I can't walk that far ever again. Please, please take us trick-or-treating next year, Mommy," she begged and pleaded.
I turned to John and glared at him.
He winked at me and smiled with a mouth full of Butterfinger.
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