Halloween B.C., before children, we figured out going on a date scored us a short wait time and a good table. In previous years, we bought candy, but no one showed up.

Twenty one years ago, I had a thirty day old baby boy. We lived in a new neighborhood and with that came expectations of handing out candy to cute little kids dressed in fun costumes. Except this Halloween, my boy cried all day. I had a defrosted bun-less veggie burger for lunch at 5:00 in the afternoon. I didn’t shower and I couldn’t calm this baby down. Then the knocking started. And more crying. Then a phone call from my husband announcing his car wouldn’t start. We ate out again and returned home to a bowl full of candy.

Later, we left candy on the porch with a sign for kids to take two pieces. E has been dressed as a frog, a bowl of spaghetti, a train engineer, a chef, Indiana Jones, Thunder Pickle (his own invented character). S. joined us as a Chiquita banana. Then they both asked for candy as Phineas from Phineas & Ferb with a rockstar, Harry Potter and a police officer, Jek-14 and a low-key ballerina, Minecraft Steve with a black kitty cat, a meme with a unicorn.

A quick dinner of chicken nuggets or pigs-in-a-blanket preceded early evening candy hunting. We couldn’t eat early enough before the doorbell alerted us to kids asking for candy as we tried heading out ourselves. The transition from giving to getting was always tricky, but always worked itself out.

As E grew up, his trick-or-treating morphed into a belated birthday party in the garage with friends, complete with pizza and bottled root beer. It also cost taking S. around the neighborhood while I handed out candy and made sure the pizza was ordered, paid, and delivered. The candy bowl now had a companion. E later took over it while I gathered S. and her friends, meeting them at the end of each street, an exasperated “Mom! Why can’t I just go with my friends? Without you?”

E’s garage parties have come to an end. S. has new friends. A few days ago, she also requested a garage party. Then she decided to take over candy duty because, as she explained, “I’m a little too old for trick-or-treating. It’s a little kid thing. I shouldn’t take candy from them.”

By Sunday, she needed a costume.

“What happened to letting little kids have their candy?”

“My theater friends want me to go with them. We’re all going together.”

This afternoon, my husband and I went to happy hour. S. went home with a friend with plans for trick-or-treating later. I sat on the front porch and attempted to git rid of all of the candy. Older kids loved my costume. S. didn’t comment when she saw me later that night.

Halloween happy hour might be our next tradition. Perhaps next year, we’ll also be the full sized candy bar house.