Sometimes I wonder if Halloween is really for me or for my daughter. I get so excited thinking about all the chocolates my one and only child will be bringing home this year; how much I’ll eat, regardless of the side effect of deep regret the next day.
I comfort myself with the fact that I never really did experience Halloween until eight years ago, when my daughter turned three. At the time, we were living in
York City and we went with a group of parents, and their kids, from
the children’s museum in Soho.
Halloween of 2003 was one of the most exciting times of my life. Lining up. Watching all those amazing, wonderful people hand out candy. I have to admit I was mildly curious as to why my daughter didn’t seem half as excited as I was, but it didn’t really bother me because, after all, she was only three.
Of course, when people started glaring at my outstretched hand and withholding their wrapped treasures, I decided it was time to get my darling daughter more into the swing of things. So I picked her up, gently placed her (half-open) hand in mine, and tempered my grin to a smile of mild curiosity. There was nothing much I could do about my eyes though.
In hindsight, as I observe my super-excited daughter gear up for Halloween this year, hinting, whenever possible, at how many BAGS of candy she wants to trick or treat with, I wonder if, maybe, I might have been just a tad bit too hasty in exposing her to so much fun.
Still, more than one bag stuffed with all sorts of chocolates and assorted treats… Yummm! Now I understand some of the benefits of having two kids. Or three.