Hal­loween — when things go so bumpy in the night

The Riverine Herald - - NEWS - WITH IVY JENSEN

HAL­LOWEEN. More like Hel­loween!

Be­cause it’s me who has to pay for the side ef­fects of this so-called ‘cel­e­bra­tion’ as the sugar high sends my girls into a hy­per­ac­tive frenzy be­fore they crash into an anger-filled melt­down.

I’m sure I’m not the only one here think­ing the same thing?

Not that I want to be the Hal­loween grinch or any­thing — I mean I love to get dressed-up as much as the next drag queen — but you see, my chil­dren aren’t ex­actly the pic­ture of placid­ity — with­out sugar.

To will­ingly hand them a buck­et­ful of sour worms, lol­lipops and Mars bars is an open in­vi­ta­tion for them to start bounc­ing off the walls.

It’s like watch­ing Dr Jekyll tran­si­tion into Mr Hyde or Bruce Ban­ner mor­ph­ing into The In­cred­i­ble Hulk.

Their pupils be­come en­larged, their eyes start to bulge, their cheeks flush red and their arm hairs stand on end.

That is promptly fol­lowed by a ter­ri­fy­ing surge of hy­per­ex­citabil­ity, dur­ing which the lounge is im­me­di­ately con­verted to an im­promptu wrestling ring, ev­ery piece of fur­ni­ture be­comes a launch­ing pad, and walls are mis­taken for a bouncy cas­tle.

And if you think this sugar high is in­tense, it is noth­ing com­pared to the melan­cholic wrath that in­evitably fol­lows.

For­tu­nately (and I am us­ing that word loosely) for me, this year Hal­loween falls on my week.

And as much as I hate it, my girls live for it. Ayla starts think­ing about it months be­fore to en­sure she has the scari­est pos­si­ble out­fit whereas for Maya, it’s all about the lol­lies.

If she was left alone for the day, I’m pretty sure lol­lies would be on the menu for break­fast, lunch and din­ner.

Hence why I don’t keep candy in the house.

Un­less of course you call Dutch dou­ble-salted licorice con­fec­tionery.

So when trick or treaters knocked on my door one for­got­ten Hal­loween, I pan­icked.

I couldn’t give them my Dutch drops. If they could ac­tu­ally stom­ach them which 99 per cent of my friends can’t (and they say Aussies are tough), I’m pretty sure their blood pressure would have gone through the roof.

So I raided my pantry des­per­ately look­ing for some­thing, any­thing, that re­sem­bled a lolly.

The only thing I could find was half a packet of sugar-free lol­lies from my di­et­ing days.

I quickly dumped the packet into this kid’s bucket, hop­ing he wouldn’t read the fine print un­til he was far from my door.

Did I worry that he may have suf­fered a se­vere case of di­ar­rhoea if he con­sumed the whole lot in one night? No, not re­ally. Be­cause all that sugar would have been flushed out too. I guess in that sense, I was re­ally do­ing his par­ents a favour.

So Wed­nes­day night as I be­grudg­ingly walk the streets and knock on strangers’ doors, I must re­mem­ber to cher­ish these mo­ments.

Be­cause in five to 10 years, the girls won’t want to be seen in pub­lic with me. So I should prob­a­bly en­joy these events while I can.

How­ever, if my munchkins do hap­pen to knock on your door at any time on that night, don’t be afraid to chuck a cou­ple of ap­ples and tooth­brushes in their buck­ets. And maybe a packet of Panadol for me.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Australia

© PressReader. All rights reserved.