I have a confession to make. This year for Halloween, our house was THAT house. And no, I’m not talking about the house with strobe lights and scary music, where all the kids stand on the sidewalk playing the ‘no you go first’ game. I once aspired to be that house. But no, we weren’t that house. We were the other house. The “no jack-o-lanterns, curtains pulled tight, sensor light off, don’t knock on our door ’cause we ain’t answering” house.
It’s shameful. But true.
We never made it to the pumpkin patch this year. We didn’t stock up on candy. We didn’t plan costumes. So as I left work today, the phone call to Joey went a little something like this:
D – “Want to go out to dinner so we don’t have to answer the door for trick-or-treaters?”
J – “Sounds good.”
I speed-racered it home, knowing full well that once then sun went down the trick-or-treaters would start swarming the neighborhood. I swung past the grocery store, picked up two of the dogs favorites bones and a small bag of butterfingers (in case I had to pelt small children with candy in order to make our escape). I got home, Joey was watching TV in the dark, said we already had one knock on the door, I threw the dogs their bones, and off we went. It was Sushi for Halloween.
I felt a twinge of guilt as we drove away and some adorable little pumpkin waddled up to our neighbors door as the parents took pictures. I do love to see the little kids in their costumes. But the guilt subsided on our way home from dinner when I saw a group of 3 teenagers wearing jeans and sweatshirts with masks on their heads, carrying huge bags of candy. And then to top it off, we saw a mini-van load up about 10 kids at the end of one street, only to drive to the next street and let them out to hit all the houses on that block. And they think I’m going to applaud this type of laziness with CANDY?! No way, sir. Back in my day you went door-to-door-to-door on foot alone, and if you were knocking you better be in full costume. And under the age of 13.
I never thought we’d be THAT house. I always thought we’d be the cool house. And growing up, I always thought THAT house was lived in by cranky old people who hated kids. And puppies. And rainbows. But now I’ve come to realize it was probably just two overworked twenty-somethings (o wait, Joey’s 30 now) who didn’t feel like dealing with annoying tweens who think they’re being slick when they take four pieces of candy and you clearly said take two.
I know, I know, we’re totally the scrooges of Halloween. I’m off to down a bag of butterfingers in hopes of feeling less like an old curmudgeon.
Happy Halloween 🙂