November 2, 2010 § Leave a comment

I think the last time I enjoyed Halloween I was 9 years old.  As soon as I grew boobs and aware of all that dumb body stuff (yes, early bloomer), there was something about dressing up that felt awkward and uncomfortable and I just stopped seeing the point. Somewhere in my late teens, I made a shift from ambivalence to distaste and then, by the time I was in my mid-20s, pure hatred of the holiday. I hated the slutty costumes and booze-fests, the pressure to wear something that I’d never wear the other 364 days of the year, the decorations, the hype, everything that came along with the pointless holiday.

Enter the skids.

Somehow we ended up with the perfect trifecta of a bonus 5th weekend in the month, in October, with Halloween celebrated on the Saturday locally, resulting in a Halloween with the skids. I fully expected it to be one of those horribly torturous events that you do for your kids, that no one actually seems to enjoy, but that we all shine on and reminisce over later (See also: Trips to anywhere, shopping, anything involving extended family). I pictured whining over costumes (because no one ever wants to wear anything over or under a costume, wigs are itchy, and they probably didn’t want to be those characters anymore anyways, right?), cold, laborious trekking around downtown with more whining about all the walking.

I could not have been more wrong.

Both skids were twice as excited about their costume choices–Harry Potter and Princess Leia (I know!!)–and put up little to no whining about the whole event. I don’t know what it was, if they were just excited about the holiday, about spending it with us, getting exactly what they wanted and not what shewhomustnotbenamed wanted for them, or what, but it was one of those picture perfect slices of parenthood. I could not get enough of their determined marching from door to door, shining eyes at each new opportunity, happiness over every little piece of candy…all of it. I loved sending them to the door, watching their timid (and later confident) declarations of “trick or treat,” and then seeing their faces eagerly search for us after they’d collected their loot. Every stop they had to share, every door, they wanted to be reunited with us and I clambered to soak up every minute. Even the ill-advised gluttony as they sat in a fun-sized sea at home afterwards.

It might be that we just happened to hit the perfect cross-section of ages with the skids this year, ages where we can all enjoy this holiday with little pain. I don’t know if we’ll ever get an opportunity like this again, but it was more than I ever could have wanted . It might be foolish, but this one day with them was  just enough to fill me with optimism at the thought of another, about the ones to come with hamfisted, roly poly infants, impatient toddlers, and eager-eyed preschoolers.

It’s a silly thing, just trick-or-treating. But really, how could you not love it?


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