The kiddies have a costume parade through the entire first floor of the agency, complete with crowds who turn out to wave and dispense goodies. Strangers line the halls and wave to all the children. Some bring cameras. Many bring small gifts to place inside the kids’ trick-or-treat bags. It’s so heartwarming.
Well. E had not apparently understood exactly the concept of trick-or-treating. The first woman who tried to slip candy in E’s bag was met by a scowl and a scream. E snatched the candy out of the bottom of her bag, threw it on the floor, and yelled in this poor woman’s face. THAT’S MY HALLOWEEN BAG! THAT’S NOT YOUR HALLOWEEN BAG! DON’T TOUCH MY BAG!
It’s a pretty big agency. I barely know this woman. She works in a different department than my own. I do know, however, that she’s at least a pay grade above me. I wanted to de-offend her, fast, because she had a thin veneer of amusement around her lips insufficiently hiding the look of horror in her eyes. When I explained to E that the nice lady just wanted to give her candy, she accepted it grudgingly. Ironically, she didn’t recognize the packaging but it was for candy that she loves. Mark it down: 2008 – the first documented case of career suicide by gummy bears. And mark it down: October 30, 2009 – review the concept of trick-or-treating.
By the end of the parade, though, E had a full bag of loot: a puzzle, Cheez-its, lots of candy. Even the convenience store manager gave all the kids full-sized Rice Krispie treats. (Oogh, I know, processed Rice Krispie treats. Gross. But – the point remains – they sell those suckers in the store for $1.25. It was very nice of the manager to give them to our kiddos.)
I think the best score of the parade, though, goes to L. The infants and toddlers who either can’t walk yet or can’t walk that distance yet rode in strollers. And still, their bags were filled with treats. L loved her Cheez-its but somebody gave her a bag of M&Ms. And I love you, my baby, but you’re not old enough for chocolate and they’re probably a choking hazard, so I had to confiscate them. Goodness, see? Being a working mother really can be tough sometimes.