The Season of the Hunted

Every marriage has someone who’s usually right (or at least thinks they are!) Ours is Jamie, and to my chagrin, he usually is. But for the first time in a long time, I won out. Our disagreement was over the bushel of Halloween candy I bought. Jamie said it was waaay too much (his argument was based on the fact that last year, much or our area was still under construction so we had very few kids come by.)

Last night was a different story. The evening’s festivities began with a neighborhood costume parade with 200+ parents and kids…so many they had to close the street down. And where did the parade end? Smack in front of our house. And as soon as those kids saw me with The Bowl, it was beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Worse than the first day of hunting season, worse than the day-after-Thanksgiving sales. These little moochers seriously ran towards me screaming “Candyyyyyyy!” I had about 100 kids those first 10 minutes and they just kept coming allll night long.

As for our little Mooch, she put up her usual fuss when I put on her princess dress. I reasoned with her that if she had any deduction capabilities, she’d figure out every time she puts on that dress she gets candy. And then something clicked for my little tempest; she finally got it.

When her trick-or-treating time came, she was a whirlwind. Our little 17-month-old Hurricane Hadley grabbed Jamie’s hand and went to each house, stuck out her bag to receive candy, gave the obligatory smile and then led Jamie (very business-like) down our street. I think she’ll go pro next year.

When she got back, she dumped her stash, did a dance only a black child with rhythm could pull off and then delved in. We hadn’t seen a scene like this since she ate half a full-size cake for her 1st birthday (see write-up in the local paper).

A sugar rush last night was followed by a sugar hangover this morning. She claims it was all worth it.

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