It’s that time of year again, where the lines between the living and the dead are blurred and we nearly die eating our weight in Mini Mars bars. I’ve eaten more jello than I can count, telling myself it was for trick-or-treating before dipping it in before leaving the supermarket parking lot. At this point, I’m pretty sure my bloodstream consists of 80% Haribo.
My group of friends is divided on parenting on Halloween. While some people are totally on board with The Rocky Horror Picture Show, others decry it as “just a thing to do.” There’s no doubt that parents’ expectations for Halloween are higher than ever, but it’s still my favorite festival of all time. It’s a more awkward atmosphere, less food shopping, and certainly less pressure.
Of course, much of the burden on parents is coming up with costumes. While many parents try to do something smart and modern (prepare for a sea of Donald Trump), I feel it goes back to KISS. This is what a former teacher told me. Of course, before you get the idea, I’m talking about the old mantra “For a fool to keep it simple”, the latter of which has thankfully been in classrooms since around the time of the Good Friday Agreement. is no longer uttered.
Unless your child is a big fan of CNN, it’s probably best to avoid American politics and stick to the classics like witches, ghosts, and the taxman.
Last year, we made the rookie mistake of letting our oldest son pick out his Halloween costume. Never again will we give children of nationalist age the power to choose what they wear. Most of life’s problems can be solved by reducing your choices, not by increasing them. So this week, we gave each child a costume. A skeleton costume for a 4-year-old and a Superman costume for a baby. Thankfully, the older boys joined in as their moms wore matching skeleton dresses. This facilitates numerous jokes about finally reaching my goal weight.
As a naturally fair-skinned girl, my foundation shade is “Riger Mortar.” Halloween has always been one of my favorite times of the year. Because all of a sudden, pale colors become fashionable. Especially if you’re planning on turning into Wednesday Addams or Ed Sheeran. As a bratty teenager in the ’90s, my wardrobe (mainly black, with occasional bright black accents) was transformed into a Halloween fad, where all my daytime clothes could easily double as costumes. It was always my day to shine – dull, of course, but shining nonetheless.
Wear classic costumes such as a witch, a ghost, or a taxman.
Halloween can bring communities together. In modern life, people often complain about not knowing their neighbors, but if your Wi-Fi name fits the bill, it might not be such a bad thing (note to self: from user PschyoWifi999 Candies with noticeable appearance will not be accepted)). But October 31st is the day we do the unthinkable. Knock on your neighbor’s door unannounced. As is often the case, 35-year-olds knocking on doors and begging for snacks don’t get the same welcome, so our mutual children fill in the gaps. Trust me, I’ve been burned before, but that’s probably Dublin for you.
Some may turn off the lights and pretend they’re not home, but most greet their children with a smile and some sweets, dutifully making up for their previous efforts. Even if the trick-or-treater is suspiciously tall and has a deep voice. Call me old-fashioned, but once you’re old enough to vote, the days of the Scream Mask should be over.
We talk about the Christmas spirit, but Halloween miracles also happen every year. For example, a surly software designer might pick up a trump card by bringing out a five-star trick-or-treat bag or a doorbell that makes a witch’s laugh when pressed.
It’s amazing how even the gloomiest neighbors can pull off spooky endeavors this time of year. Every time we pass the plastic tombstones outside their homes, the children scream with joy and we, as adults, are reminded to prepare for death on Monday.
Of course, for all the modern takes, the traditional one still has its charm, because the timeless charm of swinging for apples remains unparalleled. That is until someone pushes the pink lady a little too hard and loses her baby teeth. Just last week, my 4-year-old son was thrilled to find a ring inside the rebar. I’m not sure if he fully understands that this means we’re getting married within the year, but tradition is tradition.
That night, I look forward to calling my neighbors and sniffing around what they have to offer. It’s definitely the best part of Halloween – the excuse to say “hello,” the little gestures of festive spirit, and I love checking out people’s hallway decorations.
However, if you want to get closer to your neighbors and prevent future social interactions, just arm them with monkey nuts. Nothing says “I’m an island” like giving your kids nuts on Halloween, so if you never want to see them again, you know what to do. And if two skeletons and a superhero call your house, know that I’m pretty into Mars bars, despite what you might have guessed from my skeleton. Please stay.
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