Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown
Times
The biggest kids
got the Halloween candy
By Ann Ipock
November 08, 2006
Another Mounds bar, another pounds war. OK, that’s not the best
rhyming job in the world, but song writers do it all the time. They just
stretch out the words at the end of the sentences to make it work.
In fact, I know lots of Southerners who when naturally speaking would
make these words rhyme. They’d say “bawwwrrr” and “wawwwrrr.”
I was talking to Herma McKenzie the other day and my deep dark secret
was revealed. No, make that our deep dark secrets were revealed to each
other and they’re identical.
To prepare for Halloween, we buy mega-bags of cutesy mini-size candy bars,
suckers and bubble gum the day they arrive in stores — which, by
the way, gets earlier every year. This year, I think it was August, right
after the 4th of July aisle got cleared out. Down with the red, white
and blue and up with the black, white and orange. We bring home the stash
of goodies and here’s the secret we share: They disappear immediately!
Come Halloween, there is NOTHING left for the little trick or treaters.
Why? Because we ate it all.
This year is no different. I’ve tried to be good by not opening
the packages. But I always cave, saying, “Just one,” sounding
like our quite convincing five-year-old granddaughter, Madison. A little
later, temptation rears its ugly head and the “smell ”—
not to be confused with the “cat” — is “out of
the bag.” Once again, the aroma of dense, sweet chocolate fills
the air.
Having absolutely no will power, I find myself repeating this scenario
time after time, until the candy is all gone. Just as the potato chip
commercial says, “No one can eat just one,” I can’t
either. Herma does the same thing. In fact, we’ve both run out of
candy and are also running out of time. Are we bad or what?
It wasn’t too long ago (only 40 short years or so) that Herma and
I were kids celebrating Halloween: dressed up in costumes, we walked around
our own neighborhoods, paper bags in hands, ringing doorbells. Herma and
I are about the same age and have other things in common: We also have
granddaughters that live out of state. She and Dwight have a granddaughter,
Kate, age 1. Hubby Russell and I have two granddaughters, Madison (that
I mentioned), and Carly, age 1. So, besides the candy-snitching thing,
we also share a little sadness at Halloween since our babies live so far
away. This means we don’t get to sew their costumes — what
am I saying, I’ve never sewed a costume in my life. We also aren’t
there to take pictures — like I could: my camera is always out of
reach, out of batteries, or out of film. We also miss the fun of spoiling
them rotten with all that sugar — forget the fact that I was once
a dental hygienist.
Here in Pawleys Island, Russell and I have missed several Halloweens at
our house. When we have been home, almost no children come around. Though
our neighborhood is great, it’s not kid-friendly in the fact that
we have no sidewalks and very few street lights (something I still can’t
get used to). Quite frankly, I don’t think it’s safe to be
walking around here at night. Thankfully, there are celebrations, instead,
at churches, malls and recreation centers. But here’s the real reason
we’ll be “away” this year.
There’s no candy in my house. After eating most of the treats myself,
I hid one “emergency” bag of Tootsie Rolls up high in a cabinet
behind the pasta and grits. But dang if Russell didn’t find them
and now, they’re gone. And though he’s not wearing a costume,
he’s the biggest kid I know, so it’s hard to fuss at him.
How’d you do, Dwight? Isn’t that one other thing Herma and
I have in common?