Halloween Central

I’m not sure how I went from being the Halloween Grinch to my home becoming Halloween-Central but Tuesday I found myself hosting eight excitable kids pre-trick or treating.

The oldest had been harping on for days about going trick or treating from one of his new Intermediate friend’s houses. Based on the fact the only piece of flimsy information he could provide was that he lived somewhere in town, I refused.

“I don’t even know his mother,” I said.

“She’s a teacher,” he offered hopefully. Then: “Well, she was, I think she got fired …” he drifted off, realising this wasn’t helping his plight.

I suggested his friends base themselves from our house and, next minute, it was all on.

From the kitchen window, I watched four big boys coming down the drive after school and then bypass the door to head straight for the basketball hoop. I was keen to meet these new friends I had been hearing about all year so, after a while, armed with two big bowls of popcorn, went down to his room, where they were now playing X Box.

The first thing to hit me was the strong smell of deodorant. These boys must have been having a Lynx-fest. I shook their hands and we chatted amicably. They were good sorts.

I chucked a bunch of pies in the oven, adding one more when another boy showed up and called them all upstairs to put a lining on their stomachs before the onset of sugar.

After that, they got into their costumes and were chaffing at the bit to go. I managed to rein them in for another ten minutes and, following a lecture about being respectful and a curfew of 8pm, at 5.30pm, they were off with their fake gashes and what-not.

“This will probably be your last year of trick or treating,” I called after them. “So enjoy it.”

“Wh-at?!” they cried.

“You’re too old for this – you don’t look cute!”

Next it was time to get the younger ones ready. I returned inside and found a text from a mum asking if my younger, supervised, trick or treaters could pick up her boy and his friend along the way. Apparently, they had organised it at school. Off they went and I filled up a pumpkin container with ‘body parts’ lollies to hand out to visitors.

As I absorbed the peace, I reflected on how I have never dressed up for Halloween and likely never will. It just wasn’t part of our childhood. In fact, the only time I went door-knocking was to sell Girl Guide biscuits. 

These days, apart from the non-believers, it seems to have become the norm. For as long as my kids can remember, it began with them dressing up and handing out lollies to the older kids who came to our door, to going around our neighbours handing out lollies to them, to now the full works.

They came home laden, to my horror, but I listened almost enviously as they sat in the lounge and debriefed on all the fun. Going by their feedback it appears, as well as being a sociable event, many, including the elderly, are embracing it (although, perhaps this is more a case of ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em). Some were handing out bags of lollies, balloons and even the dairy owner gave a couple of lollies to each kid! Some even got in the swing of things and played tricks, much to the kids’ delight.

Master Nine commented that he wished he’d had a drink while doing the rounds as it was thirsty work.

“So, if drinks of water were handed out at some of the houses, would you rather that than lollies?” I asked, impressed.

“Ye-es!” he vigorously replied, still on his sugar high. Before adding: “Well, Mountain Dew would be better.”