To Trick or Not to Treat
I knew this day would get here sooner or later. My two-year-old daughter is now old enough to say Halloween, costume, and the most dreaded word known to dentist fearing parents—candy. So do I let her dress up and eat crummy cavity-friendly candy? I just don’t know if I can do it. The costume thing is already nixed off the list. This is a kid who pulls down her pants in preschool. Natalia can barely can keep her regular clothes on, so the thought of her stripping down to her Pull-Ups in the middle of a neighborhood street is too much for me to handle. I sure hope this is a phase and she doesn’t ask for a stripper pole when she hits sixteen.
Since I have a little nudist on my hands, I have decided to take the path of least resistance. Whether she likes it or not, she’ll have to wear something so she doesn’t scare the neighbors. Probably just a black t-shirt and pants. Then I’ll paint her face so she looks cute and she can stand by the door as her mom and dad pass out candy to all the little goblins and ghosts. She not only knows how to say the word, but she’s already gotten a taste for the sweet stuff at preschool. When she yelped for an Oreo last night, I wondered if we’d already lost her to the marketing geniuses at Nabisco. While she’s had a bite or two at school, I’ve never given her any candy. A cupcake on her birthday? Cake at a restaurant, yes? But crappy candy? Nope.
Am I being a hard ass? Maybe. But I just don’t want her to stuff junk in her mouth like most kids do. So as long as I have a say in what she eats she can forget about Jelly Bellys, M&Ms, and Snickers bars. Don’t think I can make it through the night without caving in? The bet’s on. But hey, if you see a petite strawberry blonde begging her naked little girl with chocolate smeared all over her face to get back in the house—just promise me you won’t laugh and throw candy at me. Deal? Happy Halloween.