I hate Halloween
Is that ok to say?
I know I’m a parent, and I know that whatever captures my child’s interest (CANDY) should be at the top of my priority list (provided it is morally acceptable and within reason), but Halloween just doesn’t do anything for me.

Granted, I enjoy dressing Dash up in his outfits each year. For his first Halloween, I forced him to be a pea pod. God that kid was cute. The best part was that back then, he’d actually keep things on his head, and the hood would actually sit there until I pulled it back. His second Halloween (which I don’t have pictures of on the computer, unfortunately) involved a bee costume that require a hood as well. You can see the costume at Babystyle. That year, we moved from Boston back to Texas the week of Halloween, and he didn’t do too much for the holiday, which was fine with me, because HELLO I just flew from MA to TX with a two year old and BOY IS MY THROAT DRY, if you know what I mean.
Last year I got him a giraffe costume, and I’m not ashamed to admit that he’s going to be a giraffe again this year. The costume is still huge on him, and he doesn’t really care. All he cares about his candy. Candy, candy, candy. And I have to walk him around, compiling mass quantities of candy that will inevitably make me Mean Ole Mom within 24 hours, all so he can have his stupid holiday.
This is why some parents go all Halloween is Evil and My Children Will Not Be Participating on their kids and acquaintances. It’s a pain in the ass, frankly. I am not “crafty”, and I don’t enjoy making things. I don’t want to dress up, and I certainly don’t do well at that whole Pretend to Be Excited thing when we approach people’s houses. “TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!” is one of the most obnoxious phrases I can call to mind, and I cringe thinking about my child marching around, asking for handouts just because he’s in some outfit I’ve made him wear.

Yet, I’ll be out tonight, in the freezing-ass cold, walking Dash and his girlfriend around with my friend A., asking over-zealous neighbors for candy. I’ll pretend to be excited for him and his wide assortment of tooth-killers and goofballs, and I’ll promptly hide it all as soon as he falls asleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, when he wakes up for school and asks where his candy is, I’ll tell him a real giraffe (or Vader, or Frodo or whatever) came and stole it. Meanwhile, I’ll have a nice stash under my pillow and in my bra drawer.
Don’t look at me like that - I spend 364 days a year trying convince him not to eat that shit!
Happy Halloween, y’all.













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