“Nothing on Earth so beautiful as the final haul on Halloween night.”
~Steve Almond
Have you ever met a kid who didn’t like Halloween? Me neither. It isn’t as cool as Christmas, but after a childhood spent hearing that we should never accept candy from strangers, it’s a pillowcase of giggles to wait ’til dark, then pretend we’re someone else as we’re escorted door to door in a procession of panhandling pleasure.
My memories of Halloween are all frosted in sugar. Even the year my best friend Jimmy and I had our bags snatched by a group of teenagers dressed as hoodlums (though now that I think about it, those probably weren’t costumes). That evening still ended with more candy than my body could process.
The magic of Halloween is trimmed with pretend. As children, we employ our imagination regardless of season, but it is on October’s last nightfall, when our activities are sanctioned, and we are rewarded for our performance with double the sugar it would take to embarrass a Ding Dong. A haul which makes even the best of parents reevaluate their clan’s confectionary commandments; more than enough to make a regular sugar high, teeter toward an overdose.
If we would ever like a clue how our little ones might behave, taller and stronger, away from us and inebriated, it’s easy enough to create the conditions. Halloween might just be the best day of the year to do it.
In my house, too much sugar and not enough sleep is a perfect recipe. Already, Daisy and I peer toward tomorrow, so we can see our Mia tipsy. Though calmly terrified, we’ve arrived at the conclusion that the knowledge has come early so that we may observe and initiate new behavior, rather than remain where we are and react when it’s too late.
We have more than a decade to steer her steady. Really, how different is it, learning to control our impulses? Isn’t alcohol just fermented sugar?
A dozen sentences back, I was only speculating, but I believe hypothesis is turning to theory right beneath my fingers. Teaching Mia to work through her punchiness while sick with sugar, is perhaps doing her (and ourselves) a giant favor. Can you imagine if our parents had had the foresight to teach us to safely navigate our way through inebriation. Wouldn’t you have wanted to drop a thank you card in the mail about a thousand times during your twenties?
Let’s do the hard work now, and save our offspring from a distant future filled with “Now, how did I wind up here?” or “Really? Gee, I don’t remember any of that.” Let’s buck up, band together, and do what needs to be done; lock the doors and hand over the treats.
Halloween’s on Friday this year. Let the kids go to town. Just remember, you’re still the sheriff and you can get better sleep if you need too.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Writer Dad
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