We went trick or treating on Halloween night with some friends. Unfortunately my little girl is kind of lazy and her trick or treat bag was a tad longer than her legs so she spent a large portion of the night dragging her bag next to her. I kept trying to have her hold it up around her shoulder but it proved to be too difficult of a task for her to do while racing ahead of the other kids and parents for the first hour of our excursion. The night started with all of the little princesses running down the street like they had been shot out of a cannon. After several threats of having to hold mom’s hand and not being able to eat any of the candy being collected, the wee ones slowed their roll to afford the parents a view of their backsides as they dashed off to the next house. From the sidewalk we could hear the littles fighting over who got to ring the doorbell at the next house as they trampled through bushes. At some point the group split up, with the younger girls eagerly running ahead. The older girls trailed behind, stopping to chat at a few houses and give a proper thank you instead of a shout over the shoulder whilst running away. They knew Mom was going to take half of their candy and give it to the vets anyway.
The time finally came when the youngest girls got tired of carrying their loot. My friend’s daughter had two full buckets that she lugged down the street as we retreated ‘home’. She picked up candy that my daughter dropped, shoving it back in her bag like a good friend does. When we finally got back to the house the girls were all ready to explore their treasure trove of caramel, chocolate and gummies. They dumped their buckets on the floor and started sorting and organizing all of the little packages by size, shape and color. It was time for us to get our little punk princess home, so we scooped her up along with her bag of goodies and headed for the door. Of course tears ensued and we were informed that we were the worst parents ever because everyone in the world was eating candy while we were driving home. As we drove through our neighborhood she yelled out to stop at the few houses that had gone all out with decorating, witches and vampires beckoning her to come get more candy. But I drove on, straight to our garage where we could unload our haul.
Bursting through the door with a newfound enthusiasm fueled by the promise of something sweet, our little Evie flopped onto the rug with her candy bag wrapped around her leg. She poured the contents onto the floor while simultaneously pulling at the straps wrapped around her legs. It was then we discovered not one but two gaping holes at the bottom of the sack. It was not her clumsiness leaving behind candy for the squirrels and chipmunks, it was a mass produced cotton sack, probably made in a Chinese sweat shop. It now made sense why the other kids’ piles of candy looked double the size of ours. It’s probably for the best. The less candy we have to fight over in this house, the better.