Family Man®: Halloween Haywire

By Gregory Keer

I tried to ignore him, thinking, what could be better than going house-to-house with your family, collecting treats Charlie Brown only dreamed about?

Last Oct. 31, I stepped into the night, ready to lead my brood through one of childhood's greatest experiences - an evening of stockpiling candy and pretending to be a favorite character. For me, it was a chance to have as much fun as they did.

I even dressed up as Luke Skywalker, wearing a robe and carrying a toy lightsaber, though I didn't look as adorable as my kids. Jacob (then 4 years old) dressed as Harry Potter. Benjamin (then 7) went for the medieval "dark warrior" look. Ari (then 11 months) was stuffed in a puffy lion's costume.

As I watched my older sons ring doorbells and say thank you in voices as sweet as the treats they received, it was perfectly enchanting - for all of 15 minutes.

A car blaring bass-driven music slowed in front of us. A teenager in a Scream mask yelled out, "Happy Halloween!" then chucked an egg that smacked my pant leg.

My children thought it was hysterical.

"Daddy got hit with an egg! Can we go get some eggs, too?"

"No," I shouted, before realizing I was cracking myself. "It's only funny once."

As we moved along, my wife commented, "The real Luke would've dodged that egg."

I glared at her, then spied Jacob returning from a house, his mouth bulging with chocolate, ready to open a king-size Snickers®.

"Only five candies while we walk," I warned him.

That's when my little Harry Potter quick-changed from British schoolboy to spoiled brat: "I don't LIKE you!" he cried, dropping to the sidewalk.

I controlled my temper, firmly telling Jacob, "I can take you home right now."

Apparently this worked, because he hugged me, saying, "I'll share some of the SweeTarts® with you later, Daddy. I know you love them."

With order restored, I pushed Ari along in the stroller, smiling as he pointed at the festive decorations of flying witches, fluttering ghosts - and bloody body parts strewn over someone's lawn.

Then, Benjamin whined, "I'm bored."

I tried to ignore him, thinking, what could be better than going house-to-house with your family, collecting treats Charlie Brown only dreamed about?

"This is really boring," he repeated.