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Let Me Tell You Why I Hate Halloween

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It’s not so much the candy part. Any holiday that involves eating, I am generally in favor of. But with Halloween, it comes with stipulations. And I am usually skeptical of anything that requires action on my part.


When you have children, they want to trick-or-treat. I enjoyed this as a child, carrying my sacks of candy home, munching happily along the way. Until I did get home, and my parents confiscated it to search for razor blades in apples and suspicious tampering of wrappers. I don’t think I ever met anyone that found an actual razor blade in a piece of fruit, but this was the guise my parents operated under. The next day, the candy had vanished in to a lazy Susan, which was transported by armored car to my father’s work … never to be seen or heard from again.


When I had kids, the costumes became more expensive and the quality of loot went waaaayyy down. It becomes an annual fight to even choose a costume. After we spend an entire weekend looking at Walmart, Target, and the PX, we finally land at the overpriced seasonal costume store looking at every single costume. Just when I am about to keel over from exhaustion, my sons choose the same costume. Last year, the little hooligans got me by telling me that their friend’s mom wanted me to go with her to take the boys trick-or-treating. So I showed up at the house, where she told me it was wonderful that I said I would take her three children trick-or-treating so she could stay at home and hand out candy! So I was stuck alone, taking five children around the neighborhood while she stayed in her toasty house. I bet she ate all the candy herself after we left. Kicked back with a glass of wine, and enjoyed the quiet.


That’s what I would’ve done.


So this year, we have bribed the kids to go have dinner and ice cream at Friendly’s, or as I call it, BFF Friendly’s. No trick-or-treating. Don’t come to my house! “Keep on knockin’, but you can’t come in!”

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