I just realized that I can't give out candy this year. I know, I know, that's just so wrong. But 1) we live on a way busy street without sidewalks, so I can't imagine anyone will be stopping by and 2) the mysterious outdoor lights that are afixed about a thousand feet up in the air on the second story don't work and so our house is shrouded in darkness, thereby ensuring a lawsuit if some little Thomas the Tank Engine or Princess Barbie tries to climb up our precarious stone stairway.
My plans are to take Henri to "Trick or Treat on Safety Street," the local brouhaha in my parents' town, during the day. That's when every little kid for miles around gather at the gazebo and proceed to trick-or-treat at the local stores. I'm not anticipating much. With the prospect of hundreds of kids, I'm sure the treat du jour is Tootsie Roll midgees and Dum Dums. And then there's the whole question of how I'm going to persuade Henri to keep the candy in his bag and then later fork it all over to me. Then, of course, it will be onto the church to check out what Father John will be doling out this year.