Trick or Treat

I wasn’t allowed to go trick or treating until I was eight years old. Before that, we lived in the city and my parents were absolutely convinced that I would end up with poisoned candy or an apple with a razor blade inside it. Talk about excessively overprotective. By the time I turned eight and my parents were expecting their second child, they bought a house in the suburbs.

I’ll never forget my first time trick or treating. I went with the neighbor boy, Alvin, and I was wearing one of those cheap costumes–you know the kind–the plastic, one-piece type that you step into and tie at the back of the neck, and the mask that comes with a weak piece of elastic that’s stapled to each side of the face. I was Spider-Man! (Yeah, I’ve always been a tomboy. Can you tell?)

It was so cold that I had to wear my winter coat over my costume so unless I had the mask down, you couldn’t even tell who/what I was. On top of that, it was pouring rain, so of course I had to wear my hood. Despite the awful weather, I had the time of my life! I was maybe 13 when I stopped trick or treating, but every year that I went it was always raining.

Today, though it’s a little chilly out there, it’s bright and sunny, and for a Halloween, it’s a gorgeous day. I hope the kids have a great time. I’m also relieved that we live in an apartment, so we don’t get trick-or-treaters. I’m too fucking lazy to get up to answer the door every time it rings. :[