I Got Into The Halloween Candy Last Night

It was mocking me from across the room, in the bright orange plastic Jack O' Lantern pails.

I was helpless to resist the siren call of the snack-size Three Musketeers bar. Which is, by the way, a candy bar filled with some mysterious mock-chocolate, mock-creamy, foamy substance I have never been able to identify, but is something I suspect will survive a nuclear holocaust intact, much like a Twinkie.

My stomach was unhappy later. I must've downed a pint of milk in the aftermath just trying to rid myself of the trans-fatty acid aftermath.

But this afternoon, the candy was mocking me again.

Today I managed to resist, but only because the husband came back from lunch at the studio commissary bearing a brownie, and when faced with the choice between a fresh-baked goodie and a factory-made, preservative-packed treat, I am adult enough to choose the slightly more wholesome option. Afterall, there are eggs and flour and milk in brownies, and the fat involved is mostly butter, not hydrogenated corn solids or some such artificial evil.

I hope to be a little more of a grown-up tomorrow and skip the sweets entirely. But I'm not holding my breath.

Halloween itself was marked by the children finally "getting it" this year. They went full-on trick-or-treating for two full city blocks, tramping up the front walks of a dozen or so decorated domiciles (we skipped the ones that didn't have Halloween decor, the universal sign welcoming trick-or-treaters). And they did so in the dark. The girl, by the way, who had been utterly terrified of the whole prospect last year, and opted out except for the well-lit trick-or-treat fest at the local mall, was fearless this time around. This year, as soon as the very first door opened and a kind, smiling stranger deposited candy in her pail, she was sold on the entire enterprise.

The girl dressed as Cinderella, and got admiring stares, particularly in the costume store when she first tried it on. But the boy was the stand-out hit in his store-bought Wall-E outfit, a sort of foam sandwich board duplication of Wall-E's front and back, with the addition of a light-up glow stick on the top left, Wall-E gray goggles for his eyes (which he wore perched atop his head like movie star sunglasses), and Wall-E gloves that made his hands look like electronic arms (he mostly left the gloves in the built-in treat pocket on the bottom of the sandwich board). Wall-E was greeted all night with exclamations of "Look, it's Wall-E!" and "Cool Wall-E costume!" and "Hi, Wall-E!" Either Wall-E is much beloved, or my son looked simply adorable as Wall-E, or more likely, some combination of both factors.

As a Late Blooming Mom who has fond memories of this holiday (as posted previously here), I feel I did the kids right this year. I can check off the Halloween box. I carved a pumpkin with the kids. I took them to a Pumpkin Patch AND a Pumpkin Festival. Late Blooming Dad made a chocolate pumpkin bread. And I even got a tiny bit crafty: I didn't handmake the costumes (leave that to the moms who have the time, god bless 'em) but I DID wind up sewing the Wall-E goggles' headband so they would fit without slipping off my son's head. Plus the kids got to go trick-or-treating at the Star Eco Station on Friday, the mall Saturday afternoon, and in the neighborhood Saturday night. Oh, and did I mention the Halloween picnic for the West Los Angeles Parents of Multiples? (The highlight for me: the quadruplet toddlers dressed as Elvis ... or should I say, Elvii?)

A lot of people get down on Halloween these days as rampantly commercial, a waste of money and bad for the environment (given all the treat bags, treat wrappers, and decorations that get tossed when it's over). Religious groups of all stripes are starting to oppose it: it's got pagan origins, it involves images of evil, etc. But let's face it, America has embraced it and turned it into something it never was back when it was All Hallow's Eve. And your point is?

All the trouble Late Blooming Dad and I went to was worth it when we heard our daughter say, as we brushed teeth post-candy, "I wish every week was Halloween." Now would someone pass me the StarBursts?