When I was a kid, Halloween was my favorite holiday. Between dressing up like my favorite superhero, Wonder Woman (no shock there), the cheesy horror flicks, and the ungodly amounts of candy, it was the type of holiday that made the Fall season worthwhile. Now that I’m a grown up and a parent, I still love Halloween, but I have a bit of a different spin on the spooky holiday.
Last Halloween Rachael was still just a little thing. She went to a few houses for trick or treat, but with the cold, rainy weather and her inability to understand the concept behind Halloween, she wasn’t really into it. This year was a different story. We began priming her a couple of weeks ago by talking up the whole ‘say “trick or treat” and they give you candy” thing, and encouraging her to take an interest in recycling her costume from last year. It still fit, and she didn’t wear it very long, so why spend the money on a new one. By last night, Miss Rachael was dressed as a little piggy and ready to go.
I let Jeff take her around the neighborhood for a couple of reasons; first off, I loathe cold weather, and last night it peaked at 32 degrees, and secondly, I had a great fear of what might happen if no one was at our house to hand out candy. Our neighborhood is filled with enough of a little bastard element that if we failed to produce candy, we would most likely find the pumpkins I worked so hard carving, smashed to pieces in our driveway.
The biggest danger, of course, was that I was manning the candy bowl. I am a notorious sweet tooth and a chocoholic; so having to handle bite-sized candy bars for two hours was a recipe for disaster. However, I did learn something quite valuable. It is not possible for a 33-year-old woman to overdose on chocolate. There you go, my contribution to science for the year.
I also realized that cheap bastards run all the candy companies. When I was a kid, the “fun size” Halloween candy bars were half the size of normal candy bars, now bunny turds are bigger than what passes as a “bite”. Not that I should be consuming as much chocolate as I did last night, but I do feel like the 5 lb. bag should be worth the money.
Kids seem to be turning into smartasses earlier these days. Last night I encountered several kids from the ages of 7-10 years old who came to my door, said “trick or treat”, then followed it with some kind of smartass remark. Maybe they are getting on the computer earlier in life, or all of the growth hormone in the meat has made them more advanced, but I didn’t have smartass skills or a grasp of sarcastic humor until I was at least 12 years old. Most of the comments weren’t bad, just annoying.
It was nice to see that all of the kids dressed as Paris Hilton were boys. At one point, four 9 year old boys came to my house dressed in identical hot pink shirts, miniskirts, blonde wigs, and carrying around stuffed little dogs. I tried to figure out who they were and asked stupidly if they were dressed as Cindy Brady. One boy looked at me with the normal reply of “Who is Cindy Brady?” While the other laughed and said, “We’re Paris Hilton.” The last boy just looked at me as if to say, Old woman, it was nice of you to try and make small talk, but we don’t come from your era, so just make with the candy and wish us a ‘Happy Halloween’.
The trick or treaters dried up earlier than expected leaving us with way too much leftover candy. Thankfully, Rachael’s 3rd birthday is just around the corner and we have a piñata, so I won’t end up eating it all after a bad weekly weigh-in. I ended the night with a workout, because after you’ve consumed too many fun sized bars to count, you’d better find away to get your sick-stomached ass on that elliptical machine.
For the record, I did dress up, but not as Wonder Woman. To keep the spirit of Halloween alive, I pulled the inflatable pumpkin costume out of the back of a closet, and wore it for a couple of hours. I purchased it the year I was pregnant with Rachael, and it was perfect. It gave me a ton of room to move around in, and was inflated by a little battery-operated fan that blew cool air up my back, which was perfect for a pregnant woman with a 100-degree body temperature. This year, however, it just made me cold.
Next year, perhaps, I’ll invest in a new costume. Rachael will be too big to wear her piggy outfit, and since she is a staunch individualist with a tendency towards temper tantrums, it is highly unlikely that Jeff and I will have any influence over her costume choice. Maybe, I’ll go for the Wonder Woman again, but that all depends on whether I can stay on the elliptical and away from the fun size bars.
4 comments:
Gave sweets n a couple of quid to some little kids who'd made the effort. Don't really approve over here. Not a Brit thing but been imported. They were dressed as witches n devils n stuff n a couple of mums were with 'em. Next knock was 4 hoodies about 15. "Gizza treat then". "Sod off". One kicked my car. I ran out with a French Epee bayonet. Some chav woman who was about 12 years older than them so was obviously the mother called the police. They didn't come. Can I borrow some chocolate?
4D - We have a disgusting amount of chocolate left over, so yes you can.
I agree that Halloween is more of an American thing, because of the Puritan influences people will look for any excuse to dress up and go wild instead of just doing it. Women dress in the sleeziest clothing and release their inner slut, then blame it on the Halloween spirit. I like the fun of Halloween, but if I feel the need to do something wild, I just do it, no holiday excuses.
I love the words you put into the mouth of that one Paris Hilton kid, the whole "we don't come from your era" thing. Excellent. We just don't open the door on Halloween, and I always fear for the car or for fireworks coming through the letterbox. That said, I fear about those things every night of the year, in fact... Nice neighbourhood I live in.
I went to this big gala thing and there were some truly innovative costumes. One gal was traipsing around with a shirt that said, "Ritchie" in sequins. In her purse was a little black baby doll. Adopted african babies have replaced the purse-sized dogs.
And Rachel as a little pig? That had to be the cutest friggin' image.
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