Ours and Dad's Awesome Halloween

A childhood story about trick or treating

 

There are certain duties that parents divvy up. Halloween was no exception at our house.

My mother always stayed behind to hand out the candy, and my father’s job was to march us around the block to retrieve the goodies that awaited us. I say march, because my dad was in the military and the best way to get something done was always the fastest.

My dad was a good sport though. He dressed up is some sort of hat or accessory that went along with whatever costumes his three girls had on.  My mother was a seamstress and usually made our costumes. This particular year, she had decided that we would be clowns. My dad liked being the life of the party so this fit perfectly.

Now, being a clown in and of itself is not that difficult to pull off, however the costume was. It was some sort of jumpsuit like getup that tied up in the back. On the front, she had concocted yarn pompoms that were safety pinned down the front.  I think she found the most hideous, itchy material on purpose. To top it all off, we were forced to wear rubber noses, that smelled like old tires.

We wrangled into the jumpsuits one by one, while my dad stood and tapped his foot at the door. Just as she was arranging the last pompom on my costume, the youngest of us proclaimed she had to go potty. My dad has a way of turning his head up and then down and then to the side when he is annoyed. This time was no exception. We were definitely not following the rules of best equals fastest.

Finally, after the costumes were on, my dad donned his clown hat and we were off.

We followed the light on, light off rule. For those of you unfamiliar with the light on, lights off rule, you are only allowed to go to homes that have a light on. In our neighborhood, almost every house had a light on.

One by one we ran up the walk, rang the doorbell, sang out the obligatory treat getter and ran back down the walk, until we were half way around the block. Then disaster struck. The youngest had to go potty, again.

Couple of things you have to know is that one:  my dad does not like to be inconvenienced and two: he does not do potty emergencies. His solution was to take us all back to our house so that my mother could handle the situation.

Normally, this would have been an agreeable solution; however, this was Halloween we were talking about. The one and only time you can get as much free candy as your legs are willing to take you to go get. Mutiny occurred. Two of his three girls were not about to take one for the team for the third. The situation had escalated and meltdown was on the brink.

My dad walked up to the next house and asked if the youngest could use the bathroom. Being that this was a Midwest nice community, the lady of the home readily agreed and suggested that all of  us go to the bathroom since we were there.  She escorted us to her butterfly-infested commode and proceeded to assist with the triple knots my mother had tied to ensure the costumes stayed on.

In the meantime, the man of the house offered my father what any Midwest nice person would, a beer.

After the potty fiasco had been resolved, the man offered an additional beer for the road and placed it in a plastic bag, much like the plastic bags we were carrying. We thank them and leave; the daughters with their candy, my father with his beer, one opened in his hand and the other in the bag.

At the next house, a man answered the door. He laughed at my father and wanted to know if he was trick-or-treating too. My dad, in his normal style said, “Of Course, only I’m trick-or-treating for beer.”

The man thought this was a splendid idea, went and got him a beer. This went on from house to house, until my dad’s plastic bag was bursting from beer cans, both empty and full.

Finally, we reached our original starting point. My mother opened the door to let us all in.

Excited to get to our loot and start the exchange, we brushed past her and her question of, “How did we do?”

“We did fine, but all Dad got was beer,” was my response.

She was not amused. My father would say it was the best Halloween he ever had.

 

 

Reviews

[Mark Pearce]

A nice story. Keep these as the treasured family heirlooms that they are.