Here in our new hometown, Halloween is celebrated with a town-wide Pumpkinfest, a gathering of the entire community on the court square downtown for trick-or-treating from business-to-business. There are also food stands, crafts, and generally a good time. The streets are blocked off, and kids, big and small, have a ball.
Believing this to be the best and safest way to get the Diva’s trick-or-treating in this year, we got her dressed up and headed “downtown.” Downtown consists of the court square and about another 2-block radius. And it’s about 5 minutes away. When I say downtown, I don’t mean we went to a place where there are tall buildings, noisy streets, cabs, or lots of concrete. When I say downtown, I’m talkin’ Mayberry on a busy day.
The Diva, dressed as a fairy in pink from head to toe (duh!), led the way to the candy. It was almost like she could sniff it out. She calls it, “Fairy Sense.” I call it, “My Good Fortune.” Big Daddy and I, of course, accompanied her into each place of business, watching as she collected her loot.
After about 3 or 4 of these little trips inside the adjoining businesses, Big Daddy opted to stay outside in the street as the Diva and I made our way into an art store for more “goods”. There happened to be quite a few children and their parents lined up for candy in this store. The store’s owner, a man about our age, was handing out the candy while his son, a boy about the Diva’s age, busied himself looking disinterested and disgruntled for having been taken away from a “fun” Saturday night.
The Diva and I waited patiently as the little goblin in front of us got his candy and shuffled off. Then it was the Diva’s turn. When she stepped up to the candy receiving area, I noticed the boy perk up. At that moment, he grabbed a handful of candy from the main stash and said to his father coolly, “It’s okay, Dad. I got this one,” at which point he walked suavely up to my little fairy and in a debonaire manner dropped her candy into her bag. Smile: oversized. Chest: puffed.
As he turned to swagger back, I noted the smirk on the Diva’s face. She felt the transfer of power. Heck, she was practically singing, “I’ve got the powah!”
It was all we could do to walk, not run, back outside and tell Big Daddy all about our little “adventure”. Then, it was all we could do to keep Big Daddy from trekking into the art store to “introduce” himself and generally help the young man understand the meaning of life, which does not, as it turns out, involve him puffing out anything around the Diva.
And so it begins…