As cute as she is in it, Celeste didn't end up wearing her cow costume for Hallowe'en, and she missed out on trick-or-treating. This morning, she ended up having her only nap of the day at about 8:15 a.m. and it lasted only an hour. By the time the city's official trick-or-treat timeslot (6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.) arrived, she was well on her way to bed.
That's not to say Celeste went without. On Tuesday last, her playgroup had a Hallowe'en party and she got to wear her suit then. And on Sunday evening, she wore her costume over to her two-year-old friend K---'s house to help K--- practice trick-or-treating: Celeste and K--- stayed on the porch with Evelin, G--- (K---'s mother), and me waited; K--- knocked on the door; D---, her father, opened the door with a bowl of goodies; and K--- said "Hi Daddy!"
Since Celeste was in bed before 7:00 p.m., and with more than two hours of trick-or-treating to go, Evelin and I tried to stay alert to the pitter-patter of little (and sometimes not-so-little) feet on the porch to head off any too loud door knocking or (even worse) doorbell ringing. We only had one doorbell incident, which Celeste thankfully slept through, but I did put a big piece of duct tape over the doorbell after that. Evelin headed off another (post-duct tape) by jumping off the couch and not quite shouting "don't ring the bell!" (We had the door open, so we could see people, but still some folk like to ring that doorbell.) When she got to the door with the candy the thwarted bell ringer said "I know what you were doing; you were trying to scare us!" Evelin assured him she just wanted to keep her sleeping baby asleep. I don't think he bought her story.
We had a lot of trick-or-treaters this year and, judging by the number of cars that were going the wrong way down our one-way street, I don't all that many of them were from the neighborhood. This lead to the annual "you're giving out too much candy" discussion. Evelin is a firm believer in kids having to say "Trick or Treat!" and "Thank you." She also wants them to be in costume, and not too much jostling in front of the candy bowl. And for all of this, she wants to give out only one piece of candy per kid. I'm much more in the two to three pieces of candy camp. And while I expect Celeste to say "Thank you" in such situations, I don't get too bent out of shape when I don't get one from a bunch of goblins or Power Rangers who are all hopped up on Pixie Stix.
About two-thirds of the way through the candy bowl (and about the same way through the night), Evelin and I decided to call my mother to get her retired fourth-grade teacher's perspective on the proper amount of candy to pass out. She said three to four pieces per kid at first, progressing to handfuls to try to get rid of it as the night goes on. I passed the phone to Evelin, feeling justified for my at least two pieces stance, but then my mother backtracked saying that she didn't give out very good candy. Given that we had miniature boxes of Junior Mints, she felt one of those alone was a good enough treat (and thus validating Evelin's perspective). Thankfully, we don't have to worry about this again for another 364 days.
Technoarti tags: Hallowe'en Candy