A storoem about when my 2-year-old daughter goes T or t-ing.
|It is 31 October 1970 – early evening.
My darling daughter Ginny, 28 months
of age, is none too certain about being
out trick or treating. I figure going once
around our apartment complex should do
the trick. All the monsters walking about
has Ginny reluctant to stay out. Often you
forget such little kids accept without doubt
the witches, ghosts, Frankensteins that they see
are real, which makes Halloween truly scary.
We join two neighbors, each herding two or three
children aged 3 or 4. Ginny lags behind, very
unsure of what’s going on. At the first door,
Ginny is at the back of the pack, waiting her
turn. Say “Trick or treat” I prompt once more.
Silent, she holds her bag. The neighbor with fervor
drops a handful of candy inside. Ginny’s eyes
grow wide, first a look of incredulity, then a smile.
As the small band of beggars advances, Ginny tries
now to maneuver to the front. In a short while
the lady appears with a bowl of candy. Ginny shouts
“Treat!” The first one to receive her loot, she steps
aside … then hurries on to the next door. She’s about
a foot too short to ring the doorbell without help,
so she beats on the door with her hand. “Let’s wait
for the others.” She beats harder. The door opens. Then,
the bowl extended, “Help yourself, dear.” I say too late,
“Just take one.” as Ginny grabs a double handful. When
asked “What’s your costume tonight?” “She’s a little
princess … type casting,” I answer for her. “Say thank you.”
With a “Tanks,” she’s off, having no more time to twiddle.
There’s candy to be had! At the next door stand a few
older kids wearing really bloody, gruesome monster outfits.
Ginny hurries to the door and nudges them aside to a place
in front. So much for scary monsters! Here Ginny gets
a real treat – a gigantic Hershey’s chocolate bar. Her face
lights up like she’s struck gold. All the rest of the night
she refuses to relinquish her grip on that bar. Understand,
this bar would be heavy for me. Finally home, tired, right
to bed. Later, I check on her … and pry the bar from her hand.
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