The last half hour before trick-or-treating always rushes by in a matter of seconds. Shovel something nutritious down our throats, throw on the costumes and make-up, go to the bathroom, don’t forget a raincoat, our friends are here, time to go…
I didn’t dress up. But I had the great honor of hollering like a lunatic at the kids to hurry up and let me take their pictures before the ominous storm-cloud-laden sky got another shade darker. “Stand here. Look mean … meaner!!! But look at the camera! Okay. NEXT!” (This is my normal mode of interaction with portraiture subjects — not!)
We made our way along the most idyllic trick-or-treating route on the planet — Burns Park. The leaves rustling underfoot along the sidewalks, the closely-spaced 1930s houses festively adorned in spookiness. Every year, it’s the same refrain: All of us parents look at each other and marvel at how we’ve landed smack-in-the-middle of the most perfect Halloween cliché. Some clichés ain’t all bad!
By 8pm we were beat, and the drizzle came right on cue. Pirate Max sorted his booty, and quickly noticed that m&m’s® were the most plentiful item in his haul. His choice of first treat? Skittles.