Here we are, once again in the throes of an impending sugar orgy.  Kids nationwide have pillowcases set aside, ready to hit the streets at the first hint of dusk, competing to see who can collect the best treats tonight.

As for the parents?  Well, we’ve been honing our candy-sneaking skills, otherwise known as the ability to eat fourteen “fun size” (hey, marketing department, itty bitty does not equal “fun”) candy bars then fluff the remaining pile so it looks undisturbed.  Not that I’d know.  My friend has a gift.

Over the last couple of years I’ve written about the angst of searching out a non-sex kitten costume and the moms’ Halloween chronicles, but this year we have middle schoolers.  We have tweens and teens, one of each.  Kids who don’t want mom and dad hanging out with them as they go around the neighborhood.

Amen and hallelujah, we’ve hit our Halloween transition.

After years of bundling up to cart these kids house to house on a hayride we’re staring down the possibility of kicking back on the porch, sipping a drink and exclaiming a hundred times, “Oh, what a great costume!”  I don’t know how much warmer it’ll be, but at least I’ll have access to a coffee maker.  And a bathroom.  So there’s that.

Don’t get me wrong, the Halloween thing is magical.  Watching the littles bound up to a door, delightedly crying out trick or treat over and over again, then rushing back to the parents to compare their sugar prizes.  Gobbling up goodies between houses, swapping candy with other kids on the hayride – it was awesome while it lasted.  I’ve had my time fixing costumes on the fly and witnessing those childhood joys.

But now?  I think I’m ready to give these legs a rest and hand out some candy for a while.