10) When the trickee-treatee holds out a basket for Audrey to choose a piece of candy. I always forget to prime her for this option, so she stands there paralyzed with indecision and then starts feeling all of them up or taking one and then putting it back, at which point they start to realize that something is awry. Just give her a goddamned piece of candy already.
9) Doctors' offices and hospitals decorated with ghosts, skeletons, and human skulls. Not cool.
8) People who give out candy that I do not like. Did they not get my annual flyer?
7) The fact that fully 1/2 of the Halloweens that Audrey's been alive for have been ruined by: finding out that she had autism (2005), her getting mauled by a dog (2007), and her breaking her arm (2009). This year she'll be swaddled in bubble wrap until November 1.
6) That it's getting harder to wrestle Audrey to the ground for the Kit Kats.
5) Saucy/naughty/trampy Halloween costumes for women. Especially when they are based on honorable occupations or beloved children's characters. Strawberry Slutcake? Really?
4) Entering Audrey in a costume contest and having her lose to some punk wearing a poster board with the Jack of Clubs drawn on it, when she looked like this:
|I just wanted an excuse |
to post this picture again
3) People who sit outside on their stoops or porches at the end of a long driveway. We can't pass up the house because they're sitting right there, and then we have to endure the long, awkward approach. I'm smiling, I'm smiling, still smiling, too soon to start chit-chatting, they're smiling like loons, what do I say, are they going to talk first, is Audrey doing anything weird, oh thank God they're drunk...
2) That I can't open a bag of candy without eating it all in one sitting.
...and the #1 Halloween Pet Peeve is:
1) Parents of typical children (you didn't think I'd leave them out, did you?) who from the moment their toddler can scale a curb don't feel it necessary to escort them to the door anymore and stand back on the sidewalk knocking back cocktails from opaque plastic cups. If I let my 6 year old child with autism do that, she'd be naked in their La-Z-Boy surfing their laptop before I reached the doorway.