The Scariest Day of the Year

I love Hallowe'en, truly I do. I always dress up. (Why, just last year, I attended a Hallowe'en party where my old man, Feral Mom, and I were the only adults in costume. We know how to have fun while looking stupid in a socially acceptable way.) I go to parties, take my kid out trick or treating. I get into it.

But of course, there's a part of me that fears and hates Hallowe'en. It is, after all, the holiday most designed to destroy and decimate the teeth of children everywhere, and many adults too. The thought of my little O. bathing his teeth in sticky, gooey, sugary crap at length during various points throughout the day fills me with unmitigated horror. (Cue chilling music.) Yesterday, however, I managed to stay cool. I know that allowing O. to fully experience normal, fun childhood occasions is more important, ultimately, than protecting his teeth from mouth-rotting garbage every single day of the year. Hey, 363 days a year ain't bad. (We'll talk about Easter later.)

My Old Man helps me keep things in perspective. He loves and values Hallowe'en, and he also balances out my oral hygiene vigilance with a more, shall we say, holistic perspective on sugary candy. With his help, I stayed fairly relaxed yesterday. I only had two major moments of anal retentive Oral-Hygiene-Queen-Mama freakage:

1. O. is eating a lollipop while trick or treating. I am maintaining my cool. It's okay. We'll swish his mouth out with water the minute we get home. The Old Man is helping him down the stairs of a house we've just visited, and O. is having trouble simultaneously holding his treat bag, his lolly, and his daddy's hand. "You can just hold the lollipop in your mouth, sweetie," advises the Old Man, very reasonably. Before I can think it through, though, the image of that little rock of solid sugar just hanging out in O's mouth makes me snap: "What, are you crazy? That's the worst thing you can do!" Seeing the alarmed looks of my husband and son, I stop and pull myself together. "But, then again, if it's just for a minute while he walks down the stairs," (self-conscious chuckle) "I suppose it's fine..."

2. O. has gone to bed. I can't resist. While my kid is still young enough not to have a minutely-detailed mental inventory of his loot, I must purge it of all the really bad stuff. The chocolate can stay, mostly. (After all, chocolate is good for your teeth.) Although the three small boxes of milk duds have to go. The hard candy all goes, except three lollipops that at least have the virtue of not being choking hazards (and not having gum inside - those get chucked). Several other sugary candies touting themselves as "chewy" are discreetly trashed. I feel a little guilty, but mostly triumphant.

And now it's All Saint's Day, a holy day of obligation in the church of my upbringing. I doubt I'll be going to mass. But maybe I'll stop by my local pagan chapel to confess my sins against Hallowe'en.