I’ve never been a huge fan of Halloween, not even when I was a kid.
I think it was, in part, because I was frequently allowed to come up with my own costumes as a very young child, as well as the fact I often stayed at my grandparents’ home, where candy — if I wanted it – was freely available. Even then, I wasn’t much of a chocoholic.
But, I’m not one to ruin the “fun” of it for others. So, in household, we let the kids decide if they want to dress up and terrorize the neighborhood.
This year, they, too, opted to not partake in Beggar’s Night. But, they did ask if we could at least put out some decorations.
One such decoration is a smiling scarecrow wearing bright, friendly clothing, that hangs from our front storm door. He’s been there for about two weeks now, greeting the mailman, paper carriers and the random solicitor who comes to our door.
That being said, every morning since we’re put him up, he’s startled me. Even when I tell myself he’s going to be there, I somehow forget and jump halfway out of my skin when I see him.
After struggling with this for about two weeks now, I’ve finally figured out how to overcome the situation. I open the door when I remind myself he’s there, then finish my out-the-door preparations.
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If you’re reading this, thank a teacher. If you’re reading this in English, thank a soldier, sailor, airman or Marine.