This is the first Halloween where Annie really understands what is going on, and I have to tell you, the girl is obsessed. Since Heather is also nuts for All Hallows Eve, all I hear all day long is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween (thank goodness for Rigby and her lack of English skills). Bad as this Halloween fever has been, Annie’s enthusiasm shot off the chart today –  so much so that it got me into one heck of a tight spot.

Annie’s favorite thing about Halloween is the costumes, and she never tires of talking about them. The funny thing, though, is that while she does like to talk about what she wants to wear, she most enjoys talking about what others should wear. She’ll sit next to me on the couch and say, apropos of nothing, “Grandma should be a turtle and Auntie Monica should be Elmo.” If I play along and say, “What do you think Uncle Kyle should be?” she will rub her chin, thinking real hard, then proclaim, “A ghost. Yeah. A ghost.” This is serious business, folks.

Almost as exciting to Annie is the idea that on Halloween night people are going to come to our house and ring our doorbell dressed in costumes.

“Kids will come here!” she says breathlessly about eighteen times a day. “And then you’ll open door!  And give them candy!”

“But only if they say trick or treat,” I remind her.

“Yes! Trick or treat! And they wear costumes! And I get to see them in costumes!”

What Annie really dreams about, though, is going trick or treating herself. How amped up is she about trick or treating? Well, today she ambled over to me (wearing a skeleton costume, of course), and said, “Want to play trick or treat?”

“How do you do that?” I asked.

Annie took my hand, pulled me into the playroom, then pointed at her toy house and said, “Go inside!”


Now if you’re thinking that a six foot three, two hundred and ten pound man isn’t meant to get inside that house, you’re probably right. But after a couple minutes of begging I said, “Okay, okay, I’m going in.” Heather strolled over from another room and said, “Now this I’ve got to see.” It took some doing, but I somehow got myself inside. That’s when Annie pushed the doorbell and yelled, “Trick or treat!”

About the size of Heather’s apartment in New York

I looked around inside the play house, found a plastic hot dog, and dropped it into Annie’s pumpkin basket. She laughed, ecstatic, and handed the hot dog back to me.


Like being back in the womb

We repeated this game for another ten minutes before my knees were throbbing and I had to get out. The thing is, when I tried to, I discovered that I was stuck. I squirmed, trying to free myself, and Heather broke into laughter.

“I’m not going to have to call the fire department, am I?”

“Of course not,” I snapped, though for a few seconds I wasn’t so sure. Luckily for me, I did eventually get out. Not so luckily for me, the last thing Annie said before going to bed tonight was, “Play trick or treat again tomorrow, Dada? Please?”

Oy. Tomorrow, I think, is Heather’s turn to play trick or treat.