Last Wednesday night I used my belly for evil.
For the past four Halloweens, John and I have purchased multiple bags of candy, only to be left with a hefty stash of leftovers. I could count the amount of tricker-treaters on one hand. And so this year, I thought it prudent to purchase a single bag of candy.
Bad idea. An hour into festivities we ran out.
John was immediately taken with the idea of grabbing some candy from friends. I, on the other hand, thought it much more reasonable to raid our cupboards and fill the empty bowl with the individually wrapped Lifesavers we had acquired over the months (I figured they were better than my left-over Preggie-Pops).
Since Lifesavers are small, I told our tricker-treaters that they could take two candies...which I thought was very generous of me. Meanwhile, John kept up with the mantra that we needed to go find "real candy" to give out. I finally had to acquiesce after two girls politely thanked me for their Lifesavers before one of them loudly whispered to the other, "This is why we should have started earlier."
I closed the door and announced, "That's it! I'm getting some candy." So I skulked across the street to our neighbor's apartment. They were not home, but had three large vats of candy outside with a sign informing it's readers to take and enjoy. After a swift look around, I filled both of the kangaroo pockets of my sweatshirt with multitudes of candy and hurried back to my apartment, prepared for questions I might encounter along my way.
"Mandy, is that a Butterfinger in your sweatshirt?"
"No, it's his elbow."
"Is that a Snickers bar sticking out of your shirt?"
"Hmmm, must be his heel."
"Looks like you've got a Reeces Peanut Butter Cup there."
"It's his butt. The doctors have said it's square."
I made it back to our apartment, replenished our pathetic stash, and made our neighborhood a happier place. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I had used my belly for evil. I had used my son to break the 8th commandment.
I suppose I should go over to our neighbors and confess...actually, I think I just did. Sorry Sarah and Andrew.