Attention all Halloween-loving adults: It’s time to grow up. When are you going to take responsibility for the trauma you are single-handedly inflicting on today’s youth? Enough of this nonsense — the costumes, the jack-o’-lanterns, the bobbing for apples. If I wanted to swap spit with my neighbors, I would’ve moved in to the Playboy Mansion.
Speaking of, if you are old enough to answer the door for trick-or-treaters, you are too old to don bunny ears and a tail. Please stop giving candy to children while dressed like that. It sends confusing messages, and I’m fairly certain it’s the reason behind America’s obesity issue. While we’re on the topic, stop answering the door in any costume — clown, ghost, Donald Trump’s toupee (also known as Chewbacca). And please, for the love of Jack Skellington, can we unanimously, once and for all, stop trying to scare the children?
The first year I was allowed to trick-or-treat by myself, a friend and I knocked on the door of a neighbor we didn’t know about a block away from where I lived. A lady answered the door while wearing a bloody apron and wiping clean a butcher knife.
Our mouths dropped. We stared at her, horrified. Clearly, one of our costumed compatriots had been kidnapped and was now in the kitchen getting dismembered.
Noticing we were scared silent, the blood-covered lady said, “Don’t you two have something to say?”
We shook our heads “no.”
“Well, then,” she said. “Trick or treat.” She threw a piece of candy into our pillowcases, no doubt laced with poison, and shut the door.
Once the door was closed, screams were heard coming from inside the house. My friend and I ran.
In the years following, I refused to trick-or-treat at that house. No matter how many times my mom told me the blood was makeup, the butcher knife a prop, the screaming a CD. I may have just been a young child, but I know what I saw: murder! From that moment forward, that evil woman lost the privilege of paying for candy and giving it to me free.
Do you want to lose your cute ninja turtle and princess trick-or-treaters? Sending children into years of therapy simply because you insisted on joining in the “fun” of a kid’s holiday by answering the door in costume? Where is your sense of responsibility? Of decorum? Of consideration for your fellow man?
Halloween decorations have already started going up in my neighborhood, and I’m disappointed and saddened to tell you that they are awesome. I mean, really great. There are themes, homemade designs, holograms, lights and music. Tents are put up for temporary haunted driveways; scarecrows are on display; and bats with flickering eyes are in every tree.
It’s nauseating.
Am I the only responsible parent on the block? Think about the children! Sure, you may think that dressing up like My Little Pony is harmless, but what if the tiny superhero at your door was once thrown from a rogue horse on a carousel? The horror! Sure, everyone likes Iron Man, you think to yourself as you pull on your adult-sized costume, but did you even consider that iron-deficient kids won’t find your outfit so harmless? Here you are, walking around, bragging about all your iron, when poor little Janey has to eat spinach every night to get her doctor-prescribed dosage. And don’t even get me started on Popeye costumes. Unconscionable!
This year, I’m doing right by the kids in the neighborhood — by not doing anything. Of course, I bought a pumpkin. How else am I supposed to make delicious pumpkin seeds? But I refuse to carve it! I will answer the door and hand out candy, but I not only will not wear a costume but also won’t even smile, for fear of bringing on dentist trauma. I had decided to play it safe and refrain from talking to the trick-or-treaters altogether but reconsidered when I realized I might elicit mime trauma.
This year, parents, can we remember what it was like when we were kids and do what is right for the children by not doing anything at all?
And no, my beliefs were not brought on — nor are my actions being suggested — because I’m too lazy to decorate and tired of being the shamed house in the neighborhood. OK, maybe they were.
Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com.