I admit it. I hate halloween. As a homeowner, that is.
As a human being and a mother and a former kid, I adore this holiday. I have so many great memories of halloween over the years. I remember envying my older siblings' smurf costume and looking forward to the year I would be big enough to wear it. I remember having an entire paper shopping full of candy, and the hours of negotiation between my best friend and I to trade the candy we didn't want for the ones we did. I remember going trick-or-treating in our neighborhood and then the special treat of my mom and dad taking us to trick or treat in the rich neighborhood where they had awesome candy. Or that one house down the street that you could rely on, year after year, to have not just pieces of candy but entire care packages for every kid who rang the bell (or maybe it was only for the ones they knew - either way, thanks!). I even have a special place in my heart for the big wooden bowl that my mom put the candy in every single year, so much so that she gave it to me a few years ago and just looking at that cheap 70s bowl makes me smile.
I also remember The Losers, i.e. the houses that were totally dark on halloween. As a kid, I wondered what kind of cold-hearted people lived in them. How could they not want to be home to give us candy? What could they possibly have to do on this night that was better than serving us?
Fast forward a decade or two. I'm now a homeowner. I really hate halloween. Part of it is because of the pregnancy, I know... it's no fun to jump up 50+ times a night to open the door and smile at a kid. I do get a small amount of enjoyment out of seeing what everyone's dressed up as, but not enough enjoyment to give up my entire evening (last evening pre-baby, no less!) to scampering between couch and door. But I shouldn't cut myself that much slack - even if I weren't 39.714 weeks pregnant, I would still do the same thing. I am the Halloween Grinch.
So, we leave the bowl outside with a modest amount of candy, and refill it at regular intervals, to prevent the older, parent-less kids from abusing the privilege. And because I'm mildly ashamed of not wanting to man the door, I keep most of the lights off inside so that it looks like we're not home, but left the candy out on our way out the door.
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