On Halloween, we took the kids to a new street in our little city. Logan’s teacher had given the class her home address (!) so that the kids could come trick-or-treat. According to Logan ONLY UNTIL 8PM AND THEN SHE WON’T ANSWER THE DOOR. He was quite clear on her boundaries. It wasn’t our usual haunt (see what I did there?) but it seemed like a good street, so we continued, rather than going to our regular “spot.”
We can’t trick-or-treat by our house – it’s the 2nd busiest street in our town, sidewalks are hit and miss, and so are the streetlights. Just too dangerous.
Anyhoo… It was a normal trip. The usual sweet kids, the usual rude kids, the same kind of folks answering the door. At two elderly women’s doors, I just about melted. One was just as ticked off as a proper 85 year old woman can get because her outside lights weren’t turning on. The Kids Wouldn’t Know She Has CANDY!! In a word, she was verklempt. At another home, another very proper woman waited. I’d guess 85 or so – but could have been older. She was dressed to the nines – not a costume, but from the era of being “done” until you go to bed. Heels, a brocade pantsuit, hair in full bomb-couldn’t-move-it. Waiting in what cannot be termed an entry way. A vestibule perhaps? It was extremely formal, extremely proper, but you could totally tell she dug answering the door and giving out candy. She looked lonely. I inadvertently insulted one dude. I complimented him on his decorations “this season.” “It’s awesome EVERY season.” Well, okay then. My apologies.
I’m a bit of a helicopter parent. Can’t help it. I don’t trust other people. So I don’t wait out at the street. Poe waits at the street (he doesn’t like my back uncovered). I wait at the bottom of the porch to keep an eye on things (and also to make sure manners are observed). I guess certain habits and anxieties from other parts of our lives just don’t go away no matter how “safe” your community is. So we stop at one house, ring the doorbell and wait. A tall man answers the door, the kids “trick-or-treat!”, and man says, “Come on in!” AND MY KIDS DO.
This is the part where you go OMGWTFBBQ!?!1!
It took me a full second on the porch with my mouth hanging open before I practically tackled the children to save them from the man who invited them into his house. Turns out it’s a dad from the school (who I recognized once the red tinted rage dissipated somewhat from my eyes). The kids knew him and didn’t want to be impolite, and the dad was waiting on costumed children for his kids’ Halloween party – but he didn’t know exactly WHICH kids were showing up. Of course the kids start talking, and the mom comes marching in pissed off, because you see… MY kids weren’t invited thankyouverymuch (which is where I go WTF? ‘Scuse me bitch, but take it up with your husband. I don’t want my kids in your snooty house anyway.) Don’t worry, I was polite. We said our thank yous and moved on. As they closed the door on our butts, I didn’t hear what the wife said, but heard the husband say, “Fine then! YOU answer the door. I was just doing what you asked me to!” Poor guy.
And that’s how my kids ended up lured into a house by candy. Sort of.