A Trick-or-Treating Lesson, or How to Get More Candy
L is continually teaching me not to underestimate her at any stage. No matter what I think she is or is not capable of, she is apt to yank the rug out from under my expectations on any given day. We had another lesson in this on Halloween, when we went Trick-or-Treating with Jen and Gabby. L was kitted up as her favorite friend Elmo, and we had practiced saying “Trick-or-Treat” (which was sounding more like “tick teat,” unfortunately, but I figured people would get the gist – if we could get her to actually say it to a stranger, that is) and “Thank you” for days.
We set out in the warm, dark evening, the gentle breeze scattering dry leaves along the sidewalks, creating a fitting fall background music, like so many other Halloween nights. My little bean toddled along, stumbling here and there on the uneven pavement, her plastic Jack-o-lantern treat bucket over her arm, her little hand clutching tightly to mine. I was expecting her to be fearful because she’s mostly shy of strangers.
She was a bit timid at the first house, but the friendly lady at the door was so overcome by the tiny Trick-or-Treater at her door that she reached out and put a second piece of candy in L’s bucket, gushing something that included the word “cute.” Now, L knows what “cute” means. And in that moment, I saw the wheels begin to turn in her little-girl brain.
Hmmm. That lady called me cute and put something in my bucket. I got something because I’m cute.
I prompted her to say a shy “Thank you,” and the lady beamed at her good manners – more encouragement to perform.
At the second house, an elderly man answered the door. Again, L heard the word “cute,” and got not just two, but three pieces of candy. Now, it’s critical to mention here that L had never eaten candy, so she had no idea what it was people were giving her. But she knew she was getting something, and that’s all she cared about.
By house number 3, she was a pro. She marched up to the door confidently, and when the two teenagers on the front steps remarked on her costume and put a packet of M&Ms in her bucket, she tilted her little head coquettishly and said in her cutest toddler voice, “Mooowah?” More, folks. And you know what? They put a whole handful of candy in her bucket.
At the fourth house, when she said, “More?” they just held out the candy bowl to her. I had to stop her from reaching in with both hands.
I was holding back my laughter, telling her, “Ok, that’s plenty,” and “Say thank you,” wondering if I ought to be feeling mortified at the way my 16-month-old had so easily just learned to work her audience.
After that, she was all business. At every house, she managed at least one handful of candy, and her bucket was halfway filled in no time.
Noticing that her steps were getting clumsier, and that the plastic Jack-o-lantern was looking a bit heavy on her little arm, I asked her if she was ready to go home. She shook her head emphatically, proclaiming “No!” in an anxious tone. And even though she was tired, she insisted on carrying her bucket and on walking independently from house to house. Her little face was so proud.
Finally, it began to drizzle, and we headed back to Jen’s, where she promptly dumped the contents of her bucket onto the entryway floor, like any seasoned Trick-or-Treater prepared to inventory her loot.
