My kids walked into the kitchen today holding hands. One was dressed as Cinderella. The other as Sleeping Beauty. They were ready for Halloween. Very sweet. They handed me a piece of paper.
It seems they had gotten together in the remote corner of their pink playroom and conferred about Halloween. They decided to head off disaster by planning ahead. They composed a list. A manifesto, if you will. They are 2 and 3 years old. But they’re geniuses, so this is all plausible.
The Halloween Manifesto was not just their doing. Oh no, they polled their friends, at playgroups, playgrounds, pre-school and countless gymnastics classes, carefully scribbling down in pink crayon the thoughtful responses of every toddler willing to give them an earful about their Halloween wishes. They have asked me to disseminate the results of their intricate polling so you’d know what your kids really want for Halloween.
Yes, that’s right – your kids were involved in this as well. Read it and weep:
The Toddler’s Halloween Manifesto
1. The right to completely ignore the great dinner you made to make more room in our bellies for candy. Halloween is the high holy day of candy eating, parents. We’re not idiots.
2. The right to hide a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup in our shirt until it gets all warm and melty and liquidy and then to suck the chocolate and peanut butter out of the paper wrapper as if we were insects.
3. The right to cover the entire surface area of the living room floor with candy and treats and spend the remainder of our awake-time sorting through the debris, fondling the cartoon-covered wrappers until they are mutilated beyond recognition and begging you for just “one more piece of candy” until we keel over in a sugar-induced coma.
4. The right to make you feel like crap because you couldn’t find a blue princess dress and make the “pitiful orphan face” until you go on line at the Disney store and buy the most expensive princess dresses they have and give our family’s hard-earned, recession-riddled money over to the blood-sucking commercial machine.
5. The right to remove our underpants while Trick or Treating because we like the feeling of being “fresh” while going door to door.
6. The right to not have our candy orgy interrupted by parents who “just want that little Snickers bar” or who steal our Pixie sticks “because they remind us of when we were kids”. We are uninterested in your trips through nostalgia-land, parents. Re-read your yearbook, tell the neighbors that story about how you almost made prom queen and focus on your beer. Let us worry about our insulin levels.
7. Apples, pretzels and oranges are not treats, parents. We want the sugar, high fructose corn syrup, additives, preservatives, red dye number 4 and blue dye number 6. The whole enchee-lada. If it causes cancer in mice, bring it on. Do not mock us with your attempts at nutrition on this holiest of days.
8. The right to notice that Hershey bars are the same color as poop and to state that revelation in front of people who don’t have children and who are eating a Hershey bar, in hopes we might see them gag, make the vomit face or spit up a little bit in their mouths.
9. The right to not have the contents of our treat bag disappear or dwindle down significantly by parents who think they are helping us by “removing” the candy from the house while we sleep. We are onto you. We have taken inventory on our Barbie calculators. Step away from the treat bag.
10. The right to be covered in chocolate from head to toe and refuse a bath, to spend all evening with sticky hands until finally we decide to clean up and then wipe them on your new pants, and to not get yelled at when we grind red Swedish fish into your new off-white Berber carpet because in our hallucinogenic reverie, we think the red swirly pattern looks cool. It’s Halloween after all and all bets are off.
What do you think? Did they forget anything?