Helloween

When I was a child, Halloween was my favorite day of celebration. Free candy? Who could pass that up? Even when there was candy that you didn't like in your bag, you were hopeful that at the post-trick-or-treating swap at home, you could unload much of it for something more palatable.

Now that I am older and am either relegated to handing out the candy or walking behind (i.e., not in eyesight of the candy donors, per Thing1), I consider Halloween to me much more hellish.
You see, from year to year I am constantly caught in what I call the Halloween dilemma. All year you make note of all of the new families who are moving into the neighborhood. As the day draws nearer, you carefully watch the forecast to see if conditions are optimal for Trick-or-Treating (i.e., warm enough so that you don't need to do what your parents did to you, which is commanding the wearing of a coat over the costume so that the costume is quickly rendered useless). Based on these factors, you buy your candy, almost at the last minute (to avoid eating of the candy by either you or other family members, which would necessitate a second trip to the store).

Each year, you think that this will be the year where you are caught unprepared and run out of candy. There were those new families that moved in, the weather is warm, Halloween is on a Friday, etc. So, you err on the side of caution and buy two massive bags of candy which could probably be enough for the troops currently stationed in Afghanistan.

Then the cute kids in their costumes start ringing the bell. First you start out giving them two pieces of candy, figuring you had better ration the stuff for the dreaded onslaught which is sure to appear, like a hungry pack of middle schoolers. As the hour gets closer to 8:00, you start thinking that maybe, just maybe, you screwed up. Maybe that hoard won't show up at all. Sweat starts to trickle down your forehead as you realize that you might be stuck with four pounds of leftover Halloween candy. This is not to mention the 8 lbs that Thing 1 and Thing 2 will haul home. So, you start giving out three pieces at a time. By 8:40 you know it is time to shut off your light and close shop, but you still have 2 lbs of candy left. Ugh.

At this point, you might as well get the duct tape and strap it to your thighs. Even when you buy the stuff you think you don't like to avoid any pitfalls. In fact the only pitfall you don't take into account is your pathetically low standards-much like many of our family dogs, you will eat it if given the opportunity and the ennui. Rationalization also plays a big part. You figure well, "fun size" what is the harm in that? Then you decide to have more "fun." You rationalize this second dose of fun by the fact that you are pretty sure you read somewhere that these portion sizes are getting smaller so that the manufacturers can make the same amount of money. Suddenly this business-centric practice assuages your lack of willpower and gives it new raison d'etre.

So now, two weeks after Halloween I am battling the bulge of Halloween candy that I would never think about buying or eating at any other time of the year. Like every repentent Halloween candy recovery victim, I have vowed that next year I will buy less candy. Will it really be the end of the world if I have to shut my light off at 7:45? Then I remember what it was like as a kid, walking by that house that wasn't lit, walking by it was the literal definition of empty calories as far as I was concerned. Something tells me I will make the sacrifice again next year so as not to dissappoint the kids that trudge down our street.