I used to go trick or treating when I was younger. It was never about the “tricks” – just the hope that people would open the door and give us lots of goodies. I was never interested in “tricking” them if they didn’t give us candy or pennies.
So this year, seeing as it’s the first year in our own house, on a new estate, I thought I’d be prepared and buy some treats for the treaters. Unfortunately, I had to go to work on the Saturday and was out picking up friends on the Sunday, so I left the treating job up to my more-than-capable hubby-to-be. My mum was also here, so I also gave her the lowdown.
“If we get a knock on the door, it’ll be the trick or treaters. I have a bag of chocolates on the dining table. Just give them a chocolate each. That’s all you have to do.”
“I don’t answer the door at home to trick or treaters. I just pretend I’m asleep”
“Just do it mother.”
She and James (one or the other) agreed to answer the door, so off I trotted to collect my friends. I come home to find loads of kiddies dressed up as various ghouls and witches wandering up the road. They looked fantastic. I got through the door and asked them whether they had knocked on our door.
“Yes” They said.
“Did you give them the chocolates I told you to give them?” I said.
“No” they said. “We didn’t bother opening the door, pretended we were out.”
Great, you miserable pair.