Rule No. 2, and quite possibly the most excruciating of all the rules, was that no matter how amazing of a costume I had, I had to wear a coat. Simply heartbreaking. How was anyone going to see the intense subtly of my Casper the Friendly Ghost costume while I was wearing a coat that only a few short weeks ago could have been found in the Sears & Roebuck catalog?
The third and final parental rule of Halloween was that we could only go to the houses of people we knew. At first, this was a hard candy to swallow, but then I realized that pretty much everyone in town was someone we knew. If I wasn’t related to them, then we knew someone that was. The glory of small-town life.
This year, I’ll have no rules to follow. That’s one of the great things about growing up and buying your own house. I won’t have to eat dinner before handing out candy. I won’t have to wear a coat, either. But you can guarantee the kids that have to wear protection from the elements will see a little extra something in their treat bags. Just my way of saying that I understand what it’s like to be a kid.