Here in Wisconsin with Halloween falling at the end of October, last night’s evening of trick or treating in the 50’s was down right balmy. In this fine state, it’s good to be a gorilla for Halloween, a full-sized bag of M&M’s would work nicely or if you dressed as the Abominable Snowman in his best rain gear, you’d be set for a night out trick or treating in Wisconsin – no matter what.
Of course, my girls have never wanted to be any of these things.
Which means that every year, (in the last frantic hour of leaving the house cause that’s how we do things around here) I’m promoting layers under costumes and (on exceptionally cold years) jackets over them. Last year, I gave up, threw my hands in the air and John and I just showed all the concerned parents that we did, in fact, have warm clothing and shoes for our poorly clad children… whenever they were ready for it.
This year, they did better (perhaps last year’s cold toe memories did some good?) and when I talked up the benefits of layers under costumes, I was at least partially heard, some layers were added but, of course, not quite as many as were recommended…
And so, last night, while following chilly children down the sidewalk, I decided I had it all wrong. I’ve always hated Halloween (except for those tiny Milky Way bars) but I should love it. Because Halloween is the ultimate “I told you so” holiday for mothers. Not that I would stoop so low as to look my darling, freezing children with their shivering buckets of candy in the eye and actually form the worlds “I told you so.” (I mean, I do want them to share those tiny candy bars.) But I do believe at least one “Cold? Reeeaaally?! Huh.” may have escaped me.
Eventually Glinda the Good Witch and I retired to the warmth of the truck, (those of us who live in the country have to drive into town to go trick or treating) which may have been because she was cold, though I suspect that was only a ruse (that girl is Elsa through and through and the cold has never bothered her anyway) and that the real issue was the miniature zombies in the dark. Tiny people dressed as zombies are terrible, please don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, and I was happy to sit in the warm truck with her away from those little, creepy, candy collectors.
Now, I’m sure you are concerned about my mini candy bar collection with one kid out of the trick or treating. Thankfully our Wicked Witch of the West was not so wicked after all. She, the shyest of all, spent all night asking if she could take a piece of candy for her little sister and returned to the truck with an overflowing bucket for the good witch. And, luckily for me, her little sister is very good at sharing.
This morning I’m thinking that Jane’s got the right idea. Next year I’m going to promote a Tinker Bell costume and make sure to casually mention that no one will ever know who she is if she wears a jacket over the top of it. Of course then the many suggested layers will be refused and when she inevitably becomes chilly I’ll still be able to roll my eyes in the dark, think a satisfying, “I told you so” and hide in a nice warm truck. As long as her sisters continue to be so generous we will even have a nice stash of Milky Ways at the end of the evening.
Perhaps I could learn to love this holiday after all.