My sister used to note which houses gave the best candy and hit them up, year after year. I, on the other hand, never remembered who gave what kind of candy. For me candy was peripheral to the Halloween experience; for me, the pleasure in trick-or-treating was walking about in the dark, in the cold, alone, late, hearing all the other kids in the neighborhood shouting and laughing like ghouls but no parents anywhere.
My son is more like my sister – except that he cares more about the quantity of candy than the quality. He remembered who gave the most candy last year, making sure to visit those houses again; and rather than savoring the night, he raced from house to house, knocking impatiently and then shouting,"Thank you!" over his shoulder as he leapt away. He also remembered that if you stay out late, after most of the other children have gone inside, exhausted homeowners will dump all their remaining candy in your bag.
My daughter likes candy but she got tired, or bored, after trick-or-treating for half an hour, so – just like last year – when her brother finally returned home she looked sadly at his loot, sighing ... and he promised to share what he had gathered.
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