Around here we get “ghosted.” A lot. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s the cutest thing in the world though the first year I was exposed to this foreign Halloween concept, I was like, “Oh, what the hell is this? More crap I gotta do?”
But that was because my daughter was like two. She didn’t even know what the hell Halloween was yet. And I’d never experienced the thrill of ghosting before. After that first night sneaking around the neighborhood, heart racing as I hid among the bushes trying desperately not to get caught, I was hooked.
Allow me explain.
Basically, Ghosting’s like a ring and run only instead of pranking someone to annoy them, the ghosters prank them and leave a little present of confections (well, usually Sweet Tarts or Tootsie Rolls or fun-size Snickers) with a little note informing the person of his or her fate.
If your doorbell rings late at night and you discover a brown paper bag deposited on your doorstep, you, my friend, have been ghosted. It is your duty to ghost three more people. You’re also supposed to hang the little note on your front door to indicate you’ve been hit, but that rule is pretty much useless because can’t nobody tell a little kid who they can and can’t ghost. They’ll ghost whoever they God damn please, sign or no sign, so you’ll typically get ghosted twenty thousands times before Halloween is through. But your kids will be just as excited the last time as the first, springing up from the table just as fast as they can to race to the front door to search frantically in the darkness for the ghoster.
Is there anything better?
The ghostee now becomes the ghoster and must keep the spirit alive by finding three more unsuspecting souls to trick. Which I dutifully do. The first year I went ghosting all by myself because my kid was two, and I wasn’t waking her up and dragging her out of her crib after dark to run around the neighborhood, scurry up to somebody’s door, drop a bag of candy and run like mad. Plus, she stunk at running. And, it’s gonna take more than a fallen kid to catch me. When it comes to ghosting, sometimes you have to make the tough decisions. Sometimes you gotta do what’s best for the team, and if that means leaving your kid behind so be it.
In recent years I have allowed my kids to join me, but I’m not happy about it. They don’t know how to keep their yaps shut or be still when we’re hiding in the trenches. They’ve nearly gotten us busted.
Even though my kids are bound to mess it up, I still let them come with me because that’s the kind of mother I am. But I suppose it’s a personal decision, one everyone must make on his or her own.
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