Catherine left Oliver and I alone at 4:00 this afternoon to go to a meeting. When she returned, Oliver was dressed like a cow. I couldn’t help myself: I spotted the cow-print pillowcase in the corner, and it was crying out to become Oliver’s first Hallowe’en costume.
When Catherine returned, she fashioned a tail and cow-ears to complete the effect (Catherine is very talented: I can cut arm-holes, she can craft realistic-looking cow ears).
Ever mindful of Oliver’s candy-virgin status (although he did have four Smarties, care of the cashier at Shopper’s Drug Mart), and suspicious that if he tasted the golden nectar of candy in great quantities he would be off chili garlic rice forever, we decided to conduct a limited neighbourhood tour.
I was concerned about leaving the house unattended during candy distribution prime time, but Catherine assured me that, based on last year’s traffic statistics, we would likely get few if any goblins and, anyway, we could simply leave the candy bowl out in the Reinvented Lobby and kids could equitably help themselves.
So we headed off on our small tour, first going to Catherine Hennessey’s house. We stayed for a piece of apple pie — no more than 30 minutes — and when we returned, the candy bowl was empty.
Judging from the amount of street traffic, this was not due to a sudden influx of equitably distributing children, but rather from a visit from one “hell, I might as well dump the entire candy bowl in my pillow case” rapscallion.
I am so naive.
I actually thought that, in the same Island spirit of “New Potatoes: Leave Money in Jar,” the kids who happened upon our self-serve candy cache would take a small amount, and leave the remainder for their peers, thereby serving both to broadcast their moderation, and to contribute to the Greater Good.
I guess candy and potatoes are in different morality classes.