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Don’t Get Tricked by Halloween “Treats”

I’m mostly recycling last year’s Halloween post; but at the end, I’ll add one of my family’s favorite stories – because who can resist an excuse to tell a good story?

Halloween Haiku

Only six years old.

She hid her candy from me.

Found it. Sorry, Jo.

Yes, it’s true. When my daughter Joanna was just six, I rummaged through her room to find the Halloween candy she had hidden from me. The scene that followed humiliates me to this day. Let’s just say that I’m very, very lucky that she has a forgiving and kind nature. But for all of us who have a “problem,’ shall we say, with sugary foods, Halloween is very tough. Which is why I offer you the following Halloween “recipe” to “make” after the last trick-or-treater has darkened your doorstep:

  • Bring all the leftover candy into the kitchen.

  • Unwrap each piece.

  • Throw in garbage.

  • Throw stuff over it — vinegar, mustard, or whatever works for you.

  • Bag up garbage.

  • Take outside.

  • Pat yourself on the back.

  • Smile. Turn out the lights. Go to bed.

If you decide to eat just one piece of candy, and if the “just one” turns into “I ate a ton,” don’t be discouraged. Here’s Jae’s take:

It’s just one little blip in the big picture — don’t forget, one mistake does not mean that you are a screw-up. All it means is that you are human. Treat yourself with kindness, forgive yourself, and remember that November 1 is a new day. 

And now, here’s my favorite Halloween costume story. When she was little, my daughter Nora loved wearing fancy Disney heroine costumes. But when she was 8 or 9, her dad asked if she’d be willing to wear his little league uniform. She agreed, but she clearly wasn’t too excited about the gray flannel outfit, even with its red piping. She asked him if he’d at least be willing to go with her to pick out a “good” (by which she meant “glamorous”) mask. He did, and the two of them went off together on what I believe was their one and only joint shopping trip. Thank God.

They returned home later in the day, and here was the dialog between my husband and me:

Janice: “What the hell were you thinking?”

David: “What do you mean? It’s Marilyn Monroe.”

Janice: “No, it isn’t. It’s Ru Paul.”

David: “Who’s she?”

But Nora was happy with her mask, David was happy with her uniform, and I was happy watching the faces of people opening their doors to this strange sight. A complete success.