Note: Mom, I still love you.
I am still mad about the
sharing Stalin style Halloween rules.
So is Jennifer.
(I’m pretty sure Laura is still a fan.)
Sure, dressing up for Halloween is tons of fun. So is the actual Trick or Treating. For me- and I suspect most children over the age of six-, it became a Mission. I had to get as much candy as possible. I was like the Post Office- no amount of rain or snow would deter me from my Mission. (Growing up in Missouri, it was always cold enough to snow. All costumes had to be designed with a snow suit in mind.)
Personally, my most favorite part of Halloween (credit my OCDo level of commitment to organization) was the post Trick or Treat Sort.
My husband grew up on a farm (which, by definition is in the middle of nowhere), and his Trick or Treating career was far different from mine. (In fact, until Tuesday afternoon, the man had never even carved a pumpkin!) and looked at me blankly when I referenced “The Sort”- the categorizing and the trading of the evening’s spoils.
Some people used broad categories- Chocolate, Non Chocolate, and Gross Peanut Butter Waxy Things (I actually tried those a couple of years ago, and they are pretty good- no joke!). I was always far more detailed in my sorting (shouldn’t be too surprising), and used subcategories as well- Butterfingers in the Chocolate pile, SweeTarts in the Non Chocolate pile.
Once the candy was sorted, the negotiations began. Said negotiations were fueled by an unholy alliance of too much sugar, overtiredness, and bloodlust. It was not pretty. These negotiations always included my sister Jennifer, who is two and a half years younger than me. (My other sister, Laura is five years younger than me and therefore was always too young to go and get her own candy.) My mom was concerned that I would dominate the negotiations because I was smarter older, but, Jennifer could hold her own. She always preferred the Non Chocolate to the Chocolate, so many trades were made.
Perhaps all ambassadors should be required to trade Halloween candy with a ten year old prior to assuming their post. They would learn a lot in both negotiations techniques and how to function in a combative environment(all of it above board, of course).
As soon as the Final Bell rang on the trading floor, Jennifer and I would shovel as much of the candy down our throats as we could. We ate the candy with the fervor of starving children who were in danger of having their bread and water taken away.
We had to. The candy was about to “redistributed”…