Out-Candied, Out-Treated, Out-Tricked

Happy (belated) Hallowe'en, everyone! Ours began at 5:30 am yesterday when The Girl called me from her room as I got ready for work.

"Only two more hours before I can get up to go to school and wear my costume!"

So the excitement level around here was pretty high. The Girl went as Lucy from The Chronicles of Narnia. We couldn't find a diamond bottle containing the elixir of life, so an American Girl Body Lotion bottle became a good stand-in. The Boy was Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars, although, with a "no violent costumes at school" rule in effect, his light sabre stayed home, which meant he went as "kid in brown."

Trick or treating was extremely profitable, as our new neighbourhood has a high candy/distance travelled ratio.

In fact, it only took about three long blocks or so before the bags were too heavy to be carried and both kids asked if we could head for home.

Here we are accompanying our brood along the Candy Trail. The Mennonite in me ("free candy, how can you pass it up!") fought a bit with the Wet-Blanket Mom in me ("why should we encourage them to get more of the teeth-rotting stuff?) as we walked wearily towards home, passing houses with lights on and more of the sweet treats beckoning.

The Boy's treat came when he got lost in a maze one creative person had set up on his front lawn. Having successfully made it to the centre to claim his prize, he freaked out and was too far in for a parent to swoop in. Fortunately, a damsel in distress (aka a teenage girl wearing a princess costume) came to his rescue and held his hand to help him get out. So we spent the rest of the walk home marvelling at how beautiful and nice she was (he looooves the ladies, my little Anakin).

And our trick of the evening was our daily cheating of certain death, as The Boy raced across a lawn to take a shortcut and met someone's "lawn sign minus the sign." Seriously, why on earth would you just leave a gigantic piece of wire sticking up like some menacing croquet hoop on your lawn close to the street on Hallowe'en night in an area with no street lights. Must've been a McCain sign.

But we made it home without incident, to the annual sorting of the candy to remove razor blades and needles. The whole "take out the peanut butter" stuff has also taken on a new urgency - it used to be just a dislike but now accidental ingestion could lead to all sorts of epi-pen and 911 fun.

In the spirit of the sorting and stacking so prevalent in today's early years education, the treats that made it through our rigorous culling are now categorized and sealed into ziplocs by category.

And so we're done for another year. Hopefully the candy's gone before then, as 365 days of sugar rush would be just a bit too much for me.