Half the time I can’t get my daughter to wear pants—she literally refuses—so when she let me put on her Elmo costume I knew the night was off to a great start. No doubt it helped that her “costume” was just a shirt and pants with a tutu thrown in for good measure.
My husband and I had prepped our daughter for weeks, explaining how all the kids dress up to go trick-or-treating. By Halloween night she was pretty excited about the prospect of collecting a bag of candy. “Let’s go!” she said, and we were off.
At the first house she marched right up the walk but balked at the front door. She stood there timidly, watching wide-eyed as our neighbor dropped candy in her bag. She looked in her bag, looked at my husband, looked in her bag, looked at me . . .
“Let’s go to the next house!” she exclaimed.
As we approached each house we would remind her to say trick or treat. “I don’t want to say it!” she would holler as she arrived at the door. Of each house. She’s no dummy. Clearly these people were going to give her candy, tricks or no. At least she said thank you without hesitation.
For me, the highlight of the night was when we saw another Elmo. As the Elmos passed each other on the sidewalk, our daughter casually said “Hi Elmo” and kept right on walking. You’d think seeing Elmo on the street was an everyday occurrence.
There’s no telling how long she would have lasted if the night had been warmer. As it turned out, she grew weary of wearing her hat and mittens before she lost interest in trick-or-treating. It was cold so we called it quits.
Pants and tutu came off the minute we got home. Elmo, however, didn’t come off until bath time the next night. I love that she still loves Elmo.