A Can Of Tuna

Halloween is over.

I think by now Halloween and I have an understanding with each other.
I let it create havoc with my children and do strange things to my husband with his obsession of making the perfect scary black cape and in turn...

I get to dress up my small children in adorable little costumes and aim to get at least one decent picture of them before the the princess dress gets grass stains or the toddler tears his monkey suit off.

As an added bonus, I get to raid my daughter's candy stash.

It wasn't always so, this understanding. One year, less than a decade ago, I decided to boycott Halloween. I think Halloween plotted to get me back.

I had moved into my cute little condo at the beginning of that year, my first official stab at single homeownership, and I had noticed that aside from my next door neighbor's little boy, there weren't any kids in our condo complex.

I asked my neighbor, Jennifer, if there were any other kids in the complex besides her son.

She replied, "No. It's just us. Then there's single people, like you. Oh, and some seniors and Ron." (Ron later became "Denise", but when I asked this question, I think Ron was still Ron and not Denise. We had a very entertaining little area).

Jennifer went on to explain that she usually takes her son trick-or-treating around the better parts of the community (read: places where they dish out lots of candy) and that our neighborhood stayed basically dormant on Halloween.

It was then I had decided to boycott Halloween. I planned to turn my porch light off (just in case anyone thought of ringing my doorbell) and make some sort of comfort food and watch chick flicks all night. By myself. I was so excited planning my evening relaxing at home, that it never crossed my mind to buy any kind of candy. Mistake number one.

So there I was, watching chick flicks and eating macaroni and cheese out of the pan (Shut up. You know you've done it too.) when the doorbell rings.

I ignore it.

It rings again.

I get up and answer the door. Mistake number two. There stands Jennifer with her son. I had forgotten to tell my neighbor of my plan to stay in. I thought she went elsewhere for candy.

"Hi!" I say all friendly like with an added tone of, "What are you doing ringing my doorbell, don't you know I'm watching chick flicks and eating macaroni and cheese out of a pan?"

"Trick or treat!" says Jennifer's son.

"Trick. Seriously. I don't have any candy."(If this were a movie this is where the camera would pan to the very sad face of the son. Kind of like in 'Oliver' with the 'Please, sir, I want some more' look).

"I'm so sorry. Really. I have nothing. I have a couple of cans of tuna fish in my pantry, but that's it."

"Okay!" says the boy, like he's hit the jack pot.

"Um...okay." I rushed to my pantry, grabbed the one can of tuna I actually had, and put it in his candy bag.

"Happy Halloween!" I say.

The boy is all smiles as he turns to go. My neighbor is giggling. Halloween somewhere is smirking.

I never boycotted Halloween again.