Yesterday I was not in the mood. It seemed so much effort – squeezing the after-school routine to fit it all in, nevermind buying costumes and then traipsing around in the dark.

We weren’t long back from holiday, and I was feeling overwhelmed by everything I am trying to cram into my already hectic life.  And my brain colluded with my mood, arguing convincingly about the ambiguity of taking sweets from strangers, the nutritional impact of all those sweets (hello type 2 diabetes) and the throwaway nature of all that Halloween stuff that would clog the oceans of landfill sites for decades to come.

When Adoption Focus posted a blog from Daddy and Dad who doesn’t do Halloween (read it here) on their Facebook page, I nodded my head in vociferous agreement and wished that I had thought of going out for a meal and avoiding the whole debacle instead.

Negotiation

BC (before children) Halloween meant an annual party with friends, dressing up and drinking – although we weren’t invited this year. All well and good.  Since I had never trick-or-treated as a child (for I was born in the era before we imported this nonsense from the States) I had no fond memories to give me the motivation to go out into a cold dark night with my kids.

So I prepared an alternative offer:  I would let the kids dress up, we’d snuggle down to watch a scaryish movie and they could buy whatever nutritionally bereft pseudo-foodstuffs they liked – no holds barred.  No going out.  No knocking on the doors. Bliss.

I was ready with my offer, and hopeful that I could swing the voters to my point of view.  As I collected Nibbles from school, I began my lobbying by asking him what he most liked about trick-or-treating (confidently expecting that he would say ‘the sweets’).

“Saying trick or treat, Mummy”

And with that, my alternative offer died on its arse.

A Change of Mind

Before school, we’d decided (with some encouragement from me) that I didn’t need to waste money on costumes and they would dress up as ghosts: of Princess Elsa and Captain America.

But when push came to face paint, they’d changed their minds and asked to be Frankenstein’s monster and a witch instead.

“But I’ve only got red, white and black face paints” I wailed, in my unpreparedness for the fickle nature of children who have spent all day comparing notes with their friends about which is the coolest costume to have.

I sponged Bubbles’ face black to be a witch, but she took one look, scared the beejesus out of herself and changed her mind.  I swapped to white and in the end, they both went as vampires – Nibbles had a black cape and ghost tee-shirt, Bubbles had her Elsa dress and witches stripped tights.  Random

The Kindness of Strangers

With tea eaten, tomato sauce sponged off their costumes and their faces repainted where they had rubbed it off, we left the house, torch in my hand and bags to collect their goodies in theirs. I was still somewhat reticent about there being any fun in this endeavour, but knew it would all be over soon enough.

Nibbles was pointing out the positives: “And you get more steps, Mummy” and “I love going for a walk.” I smiled and I blessed his positive nature and wondered where it was every morning when we walked up the hill to school (“it’s too steep“, “my legs are tired“).

Everyone Is Being Lovely

But then we started in earnest.  A knock on a door, a person or child opening it, their welcoming smiles, their effusive delight in Nibbles and Bubbles’ costumes, and the giving.  About three houses in, Nibbles was holding my hand, and he said with undisguised surprise “Everyone is being lovely, and they are strangers.”

I nodded in silent agreement, as tears welled in my eyes and I hugged him and that emotion tight to me.

There is a simple joy in trick-or-treating: their combined excitement as they knocked on each door; their polite thank yous each time they were given a sweet.  Nibbles’ surprise at the kindness of strangers.  The experience buried deep, the tiredness and resistance flowed out of me and I truly embraced Halloween.

I began to really enjoy the adventure – searching out pumpkins and decorations that whispered “come in, you are welcome.” One lady, with no decorations to indicate she was taking part, was washing up at her sink, saw us walk past and beckoned us in.  She was dressed in gym gear and said she was about to go out, but opened her bag of goodies just for us and poured sweets into their hands.  We have never spoken before, but in that thoughtful gesture, I felt a shiver of connection.

As we walked, I knew that this was a memory in the making.  Something that my kids would remember for ages.  A part of our family’s history.

A few houses down, I said “there’s a pumpkin at this one, let’s try it“.

Nibbles looked around and shook his head.  He asked in a confused tone “where?” and when I shined the torch on it, he jumped out of his skin. “That was scary Mummy, don’t do that!” I hugged him close and giggled silently.

Playing It Forward

And then we came home to wash Halloween off, and as their shoes were kicked off, there’s a knock at our door and I was nearly knocked over as both kids rushed to the door to open it.

They were fighting over being generous and kind.  Asking if they could be the one who gave out sweets.  We marvelled at the costumes of the little ones, used our gentle voices and crouched down to welcome the toddlers who seem unsure, and shared joy in sucrose form.

A meagre few treats, bought in a last minute panic on the way home from school.  And yet the way it lit up their faces was a delight to behold.

The night continued. with more knocks interrupting bathtime (no you can’t go down in the nudey), and during tele time, there were more mad rushes to the door.  And I am bowled over by the extra joy in being generous (and a plan for next year starts to form…)

There was a connection made yesterday, with strangers and neighbours that I hope in my heart might last a little longer.  New people to nod at when I see them walking down my street.

And as the final Treaters turn to leave for the next house, I say “Happy Halloween” and I mean it.

Perhaps all I needed was a reminder that the world is full of kind strangers, that a gift of a sweet can light up a child’s face, and that joy is all around me, if only I am prepared to see it.

Happy Halloween everyone.