And a plate of cookies

“What’s this?” the little boy asked me.

I told him, “Oh–thank you!” as I took down my forgotten No Solicitors sign. Oops–maybe that’s why the early kids didn’t show.

Out of one trio, two happily took some more when I offered more but one little boy did not. I offered him again and then simply grabbed a few mini bars and put them in his bag.

He looked at me, wounded: “I already had some!”

Two more little girls. The candy bowl with the ugly green Hand of Doom which in true zombie spirit refuses to die of old age after all these years, croaks Happy Halloweeeeeeeen and AAAHHHHHAHHAHAAAHHAH! when small hands reach for their candy. One of the girls thought it was funny; the other one was scared, so I quickly held the hand down to shut it up (the alternative being to hunt for the on/off button on the bottom while absent-mindedly pouring candy over their heads in a pinata effect while I search.)

She reached carefully behind it, back there to where those fingers couldn’t have contaminated her good Milky Ways, and picked out what she wanted. I told her happily Happy Halloween and she shot me a How DARE you! look in return. Scaring her like that!

Ah well. Give her another year, and she’ll do like my daughter did: went from being terrified of the weirdness at the door I kept opening, to saying to her little brother the next year, looking eagerly out the window with him, “Here come trick or treaters. Let’s be scared!”

After an hour of quiet, I put the rest of the candy in a small box outside the door should anyone else come: winner take all. Please!

———–

Towards the end of typing that post, I heard a car. Then a car door close. Oh good, maybe some straggler got the loot–so I went over and opened the door to see.

The box had been moved, although it was just as full: and next to it was a plate of holiday cookies with candy corn sprinkled around them. You know how knitters learn to read their stitches? I can read this friend’s baking habits.  Thank you, (name edited out)! Happy Halloween!