We were away for it last year so we didn’t realize our street becomes the centre of a carnival for a good three hours on Halloween night. Not the very best sight for a person who isn’t really keen on the event in the first place. But this Halloween might have changed my mind. Well, the children did. And not just my own.
Much like his mother, my young son is not the most comfortable being outgoing. He’s quite content to miss opportunities to do new and exciting things to remain in his comfort zone. Part of that is because he’s three, and part of that is just who he is and he is a lovely boy for it.
Though on Halloween night I saw a different child. First of all Daddy picked the kids up from daycare and they went and got donuts. Then we had frozen pizza for dinner. You need a good solid base of garbage to layer your candy upon. (And don’t bother judging my parenting… I’m harder on myself than you’ll ever be.)
While my one-year-old revelled in her monkey suit, my son began the drama about not wanting to go trick-or-treating. Strike one for Halloween.
We agreed to drive to the grandparents’ house first but of course we forgot his costume and had to double back. Strike two.
Secure in knowing who was about to answer it, my son guided his little sister up to the door, then promptly fell down the three stairs in front of it. Strike three; time to go home? No, actually. To my amazement, not a tear. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, helped his sister choose her treats, said thank you, and that was that, he was off, running to the next house we actually hadn’t planned to go to.
We ended up doing three houses on that street before returning to our own, each time he helped his sister with her treats and her manners, his hand on the small of her little monkey-suited back.
We made it to maybe 18 houses in all, not bad for a pre-schooler and a toddler. He spoke to strangers, said thank you and cared for his sister. We were so proud. But it’s what happened when we got home that floored us.
Not only did he not fight about what pieces of his loot we opted to remove from his stash, he didn’t argue when we put it away for the night. AND, he answered the door for every trick-or-treater, diligently choosing the candy, by colour, that he thought each trick-or-treater would like. It took ages. Like a really long time. Uncomfortably long. And sometimes if he couldn’t decide, he gave handfuls of candy to kids instead of just a piece or two.
“He’s a pro!” said one fortunate tween.
It was abundantly clear he delighted in the giving much more than the receiving. Those poor costumed kids at my door. They had come by the dozen in large intimidating hoards and no doubt had many houses left on their routes but they were patient and kind. They were smiling and polite. They engaged him and a few even questioned if it was OK that they’d just received more than their fair share from my overly generous helper.
The comments we got from neighbours, and the chatter on the various community Facebook pages was all similar — a great batch of trick-or-treaters this year.
Don’t tell anyone, but I’m almost looking forward to next year.