The Art of Trick-or-Treating

The four-year-old approach: Knock on door. Wait patiently by hopping from one foot to the other. Knock again, just in case they didn’t hear you – which must be the case since the door didn’t open immediately. Shout trick-or-treat as loud as possible for this obviously hearing-impaired person. From there, the approach differs depending on the giver-of-treats. If they place a treat into the receptacle, then the four-year-old, having had good manners drilled in to them since the beginning of time (or so it would seem), turns on his or her heel and is prepared to launch off the front step. Only to be stopped by the hairy eyeball being given to him or her from the above mentioned drill sergeant. He or she then usually turns, and (still shouting) quickly thanks the treat giver. The other approach is when the bowl of treats is offered up and the giver of treats instructs the four-year-old to “help themselves”. These people are obviously not familiar with small children and their affinity for treats. At this point, the four-year-old is known to grab enormous handfuls of candy and shove them into his or her bag or (in this case) cauldron. This is done at the speed of light for one of two reasons; they believe that if they are quick enough, they may be able to go in for a second scoop. OR they are afraid that the giver of treats may change his or her mind. The second scoop is usually halted by the parent, but sometimes encouraged by the giver, so it is certainly worth the effort. It should be mentioned that all of this takes place with an ear-splitting, contagious smile, interspersed with giggles of glee.

And now for the two-year-old approach. This approach is generally a bit more cautious. For our two-year-old, it was his first experience. It went something like this: Follow older sibling. Warily eyeball every and all jack-o-lanterns. Steer clear of every single stuffed man, zombie, scarecrow, or other porch decoration. Grip Mamashunga’s hand in a circulation inhibiting vice grip. Knock on door, and immediately say trick-or-treat – regardless of whether or not the door is open. Gaze in awe at the enormous bowls of treats that the givers hoard inside their houses. Watch in wonder as they place some of these treats in your cauldron. Politely say “tank you” to the givers, with minimal prompting from the mama or papashunga. Exclaim “That was fun!” in between each house. 

What a fun adventure! My minis LOVED trick-or-treating. Despite the rain. Did I mention it rained? Well it did. The whole time. Nobody seemed to notice though. Except for the papashunga and I. We definitely noticed. The minis visited about eight houses in our neighbourhood. They laughed, giggled, skipped, and exclaimed the whole time. It is worth mentioning that the bouncy four year-old, in all her excitement, still managed to wait for her little brother to arrive on the porch beside her before commencing her frantic knocking. I am so glad that we live in a place that allows them the opportunity for this adventure. I am thankful for all the people that went out of their way to decorate their houses with spooky decorations. Who went to the store and purchased over-priced mini treats and then patiently endured having their doorbell rung over and over throughout the evening. And for those who went that extra bit and dressed up themselves to enhance the trick-or-treaters’ experience. It worked. We were out for a grand total of maybe twenty minutes. But it takes less than that to form long-lasting happy memories. And in that time, we also collected a small mountain of treats that the minis promptly enjoyed. (After having them checked over by the mamashunga, of course). The rest has been confiscated and will be rationed out periodically over the next few weeks…to all four members of the household. 

Teeny Rant:

We only had a couple of trick-or-treaters at our house. And I must say, they needed some work on THEIR approach. I strongly believe that all trick-or-treaters should arrive in costume. Dressing as yourself is not a costume, nor is it funny, or clever or even mildly amusing. It is lazy. Furthermore, when the door is opened, I believe that all trick-or-treaters are obliged to SAY “trick-or-treat.” To reinforce these beliefs, I am one of those annoying people that queries “what is your costume?” to the kids without costumes and cast them disapproving looks as they give me some bologna about what they are wearing. I am also that lady that stands at the door and looks expectantly at the trick-or-treaters on the porch until they actually utter the words “trick-or-treat”! I mean, come on! You are twelve – you know the expectation! (Exceptions are made on both counts for the wee visitors still learning the ropes, of course.) I have even been known to start conversations about the weather as I wait out that tiny little phrase that rewards you with treats. Maybe that makes me a grump. I’m ok with that.