Back in MY day…

That’s a little what I felt like last night, while filling trick-or-treat bags with handfuls of candy. Back in my day…

Now, I’m not some grumpy curmudgeon. One of the things I was looking forward to about the suburbs was getting trick-or-treaters. Not only do I have an excuse to buy tons of candy (and hope for leftovers), but I also love seeing the kids’ costumes, and just how excited they are.

So last night, we filled our candy bowl, turned on the front porch light, positioned the pumpkin I convinced Husband we needed, and waited for the doorbell to ring (or at least to hear a knock).

But it happened a little differently.

The kids came, in groups of varying size, but nobody rang the doorbell. Very few even knocked. In fact, if our family room weren’t positioned so closely to the front door, we might not have heard them at all, as they came to the door and just stood silently.

Oh, they talked with each other on the way up the walk, so sometimes we had a clue that they were on their way. But more often than not I would glance over at the front door and there would be a small child or children standing just outside of it, holding out their bags of candy, waiting to be noticed.

And when we DID come over with the candy bowl, there was no, “Trick-or-treat!” There was very little excitement about what I remember being one of the most fun holidays as a kid.

Instead, there were quiet, costumed (some more than others) children begging silently for candy and then running off without a peep after their bags were filled.

The mission of Halloween has clearly become less costume-based, and far more about the candy. I used to think it was at least 50/50.

But the kicker of the night really came toward the end, when the older kids started trick-or-treating. Once again, we heard voices and scuffling, no knocking, and I got up to hand out candy. There were three boys outside (none really dressed up), but only two were facing me.

The third one seemed to have decided to save time by standing with his back toward me, so I could toss the candy directly into his open backpack. No muss, no fuss, no interaction.

And I could tell I wasn’t doing it fast enough because he kept glancing over his shoulder to see what the holdup was.

(The holdup was that I was laughing to myself at his audacity.)

Don’t get me wrong. I still had a blast giving out candy. The costumes were great, the kids were excited (before and after they got to the door), and it was a great way to feel like a part of the neighborhood.

But it also made me promise myself that our kids will learn to say “trick-or-treat” when they go out begging, and they will be dressed up.

Even if I have to get my mom to make their costumes.

Little Ladybug, circa 1989