This morning I asked Deb to come look out the window at our front yard. The perfect rows I had created with the lawn mower a few days ago had been replaced with hundreds of footprints.
It was another busy Halloween. Each year our corner lot feels like the epicenter for candy begging. A year’s worth of yearning for Fun Size Snickers and tiny bags of Skittles explodes on to our streets and washes up on our doorstep.
We rode the wave ourselves. Allie and Julia obscured their Super Girl and Barbie Cheerleader costumes with their coats (it was damn cold) and hit the streets for sweets. It didn’t last long. I made the mistake of trying to get Julia to ease her candy burden by transferring some of her candy from her plastic pumpkin to a bag I was carrying. She freaked. Then Allie tripped on a curb while running and scraped her hands. By the time we got back to the house both girls were sobbing and, I’m pretty sure, they were convinced I had something to do with ruining their Halloween.
Things settled down quickly as soon as Allie took over handing out candy and Julia found a warm lap from which to view all the action. I understand their contentment. After all, why traipse around the neighborhood in search of Halloween when Halloween parades right by your front porch? So we sat on the porch with the Mummy, a fog machine, spooky sound effects and a few strobe lights thrown in for good measure.
That was the count this year. I don’t think that’s the record, but it must be close.
Even Dan was there. I kept him awake until 1:00 or 2:00 a.m. (his time) to try and capture the experience via a Web chat. Mostly he saw streaks of light on a black background punctuated with occasional glimpses of my poorly lit, round face trying to convince him that we were having the best time ever.
It may not have been the best time ever. But it was a pretty good time. A good time that produced two plastic pumpkin heads half-filled with candy.
I can’t let the girls eat all that candy. It’s just not good for them.
Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.