Maybe I’ve been left behind. I once thought that trick-or-treating was fun because, well, candy was there for the taking.
As a kid you hoped for two things while freezing your fanny off on Oct. 31 in Wisconsin: 1) a full candy bar; 2) some adult to get fed up with handing out candy and putting the bowl on the porch.
I was a greedy child and never listened to the note of “Please take just one”. No, I left one, because I was a really mean 11-year-old.
That was it though — candy. That’s what I wanted. I remember years where six or seven of us would separate around town with the rule of “be back by 9 so we can weigh our loot and see who wins with the most!” Pillow cases. We dragged pillow cases around because plastic bags couldn’t handle 15 pounds of artificial sugary snacks.
Occasionally there was a kind neighbor handing out pencils, or notebooks, or rulers. One time I remember getting a staple remover — which in today’s world would be like giving a kid a weapon it seems. Also, bands of 9- to 11-year-olds just aren’t scouring our streets alone for four hours anymore. Most parents (like me), drive their kids around. Maybe because it’s safer, or maybe it’s because I remember just how darn cold it was in shorts and a t-shirt with a cape trudging through the snow and decided that my kids could at least have a nice warm car to walk back to every few houses or so.
But here’s one thing that I never thought I would hear until my son bothered me in the middle of the fourth inning of the Brewers’ NLCS Game 5, “I hope this year for Halloween they give out devices.”
It caught me off guard. I had to sit up and ask him what he said to make sure I heard it correctly.
“I highly doubt it, buddy,” I responded.
“Yeah, they usually just give out candy,” he added.
When I was a kid, “devices” meant something like a staple remover or a pencil sharpener. But I know what he was thinking — electronic tablet of some type.
I don’t want to call him selfish, because he’s still just 7. I also understand that he still truly has no clue how much items cost.
This is also a 7-year-old boy obsessed with pickup trucks and thinks that once he is 16 his mom and I will join him in “drifting school” for car racing. I also don’t think he understands the full concept of racing or the word “no.”
Another hot debate in the house lately has been what to dress up as for Halloween. Gabe keeps saying “Creepy Clown” but sometimes it’s a demon and other times a character from a YouTube series no one else outside of Harrison, Arkansas, has ever heard of.
Gabe was Batman at age 3, and he has been a donut, a pizza and French Fries since. The kid likes food, which is sort of a bonding point between the two of us.
When I was his age I remember being Batman one year, but I was also E.T., the devil and an old lady. All the rest of my years I was either a football player or a baseball player. Gabe wants to be exactly zero of these.
My daughter Perla has run the gambit of outfits, from being a Monster High character to a ninja to Darth Vader or a slew of other Star Wars characters. This year she wants to be either Wednesday Addams or the dead girl from the movie “The Ring”. She definitely holds a deep grip on my heart.
Our little 4-month-old Vivian will be whatever we want her to be. Maybe we’ll dress her up in a baby bear costume or as a football.
Courtney and I hotly debated going as Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande until their engagement collapsed last week. Maybe we’ll be Maude Lebowski and The Dude.
Either way, we will not be handing out devices this year. But we will be eating about 1/3 of my kids’ 30 pounds of candy they bring home. They don’t know it now, but that’s their rent money they owe me.
— Adam Krebs is a reporter for the Times and might just wear his Sidney Crosby jersey because he’s not very imaginative as a 30-something. He can be reached at akrebs@themonroetimes.net.
