I got an email the other day from a friend who was talking about what she was going to do with her girlos for Halloween.
And it got me to thinking about Halloween when we were kids.
We lived in a small town. And we didn't even live in the "town" portion of that town. We lived out in the sticks. So each year when Halloween rolled around, my mom and aunts would load all of us kids up into the station wagon and drive from house to house of people we knew.
I'm telling you, we were like a clown car of trick-or-treaters. We would pull up to a house and doors would open and kids would be falling out everywhere.
One of the station wagons had those seats in the back that folded up (do they still make those?). The bummer about that was that if you were in the back, you had to wait for someone to come and open the door, so the kids who were sitting in the back seat always got to the door of whichever house you were at first.
And if you were us girls, you were hyper competitive.
Granny B and Popie lived down a mile long dirt road so we were pretty much the only trick-or-treaters they got. So every year, Granny B would buy us each our own bag of Hershey's Miniatures. (Now all of the sudden I'm craving a Mr. Goodbar.)
One year, the girls in the back of the station wagon decided that we had enough of the other kids getting to the door before us so we devised a plan. At the house before Granny B's, we "closed" the back door ourselves. We didn't let it latch, and we held the door closed the entire way to her house. In hindsight, that was a super bad idea and someone could have been seriously injured; but at the time, it was worth whatever the potential consequence was to get to the door at Granny B's house first.