The worst-kept secret in the history of candy is that F and I dressed up to go trick-or-treating last night. I’d like it out on the books now that I make very realistic elephant sounds, and if you play your cards right I may just show you one day. You bring the wine.
F has eaten exactly 0 items of Halloween goodies. I’ve had two. Well, that’s a lie I guess.. he ate a homemade oatmeal-chocolate chip-raisin cookie from our lovely friend Bonnie, and then an apple from my Nanny. So, he kind of ate two treats, too. (I had Cheese-Sticks and a mini-Caramilk bar. For dinner.) F also ate 5.5 pieces of pizza last night when we got home. I can’t even.
I felt a little pang of sadness for him when I thought back on my years as a (real) trick-or-treater. I never went alone. I always had my cousins, or my brother, or a friend to join me. It made the whole thing way more fun. And man, the candy we got. Garbage bags of candy. It’s disgusting actually, since I’m pretty sure my parents threw most of it away because we weren’t big candy-eaters back then (now, on the other hand…).
We hit up 6 houses. Three of which were the homes of family members. At two of the houses we arrived at, I was offered a glass of wine. Because I was raised to be polite (and also because WINE), I accepted and we sat and visited with folks we haven’t seen in weeks or months. And although we only stopped at 6 houses, we came home with a pillowcase-sized bag filled with goodies ranging from oranges to full-size chocolate bars and bags of chips.
We used to have to wait on the step of these homes for the other trick-or-treaters to leave when I was a kid. We used to play tricks on each other. F was the only kid most people saw last night. When we got home, two hours after setting out, neither my Nanny nor my parents had seen a single candy-seeker. It made me really sad.
So, to fix my sad, I think I’ll eat some candy.