Jill's Journal: ‘Trick-or-treat! What took you so long?’

It was early October when I picked up a 60-count bag of candy for trick-or-treaters later in the month.

For two weeks, I ignored the bag filled with miniature bites of milk chocolate goodness sitting on the counter. Then, came week three, and with a craving for something sweet, I broke down and tore open a corner of the bag. 

Slowly, but surely, the 60-count bag of miniature bites of milk chocolate goodness began to dwindle. So, back to the store I went to grab a second, 60-count bag of chocolate delight. I made sure to leave that one unopened until a few hours before trick-or-treaters would come knocking at the door.

Based on  previous Halloweens I’ve experienced at my current address, I wasn’t expecting 50 kids. Or 40 kids. Or even 30. In all honesty, the number of kids that showed up in the past could be counted on two hands.

But of course, you’ve got to be prepared, just in case, which is why I always make sure to grab candy that this more-seasoned trick-or-treater likes. With four different kinds of chocolate treats, I made sure to give each trick-or-treater one of each.

With Halloween on a Saturday this year, I figured there’d be a few more knocks. But no. I had a whopping four trick-or-treaters that stopped by. They all showed up before the moon was even visible. And before you ask, yes, I had the exterior lights on.

While it should be easy to remember all four trick-or-treaters, there was one little boy who is hard to forget.

Dressed as Buzz Light Year, I believe, this little guy was full of questions, and he rattled them off one right after another.

“What took you so long?” he asked as I opened the door, followed by the more appropriate, “Trick-or-treat!”

I giggled, then attempted to tell him I was putting some items in the dryer.

His mom apologized.

And Buzz, well, he was already onto his next question.

“What’s this?” he asked, gently poking a battery-operated candle that turned colors.

“Oh, just something that I thought would be cool as it gets darker,” I explained.

Once again, his mom apologized.

I, of course, giggled again.

After I closed the door, I thought to myself that my doorstep probably wasn’t the only doorstep “Buzz’s” mom was offering up apologies at. I could only imagine the questions this pint-sized space ranger was popping off.  And that’s when it dawned on me that Buzz’s mom probably needed an adult beverage. Actually, make that two. I only had a couple of minutes of interaction with Buzz, but from the looks of the stash of candy in his plastic, orange pumpkin, I had no doubt he’d be firing off more questions and his mom had just as many apologies in her future.