They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Well, I, Jessica Gross, have a problem. I am completely and utterly addicted to Halloween.
I love everything about it: the costumes, the decorations… and especially the candy. I am the sibling who waited until my brothers and sister had their backs turned and their bags unattended and promptly shoveled fistfuls of their treats from their shiny plastic pumpkin into mine. And then proceeded to con them out of more when the inevitable candy trading began. And to this day, at sixteen years old, my cavity-spawning habits have yet to stop.
There are few benefits to being the oldest, but I’ve come up with one rather creative way to take advantage of my situation. My youngest brother, Jack, is eight years old and utterly adorable. And so, naturally, I shamelessly abuse his youth and his need for a chaperone as an excuse to take him trick-or-treating, and fill up my pillowcase as much as I possibly can. This year, I even took it a step further. I’ve got two words for you.
Matching. Costumes.
It was genius. I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before. A flapper to match his 1920s gangster. What’s cuter than a teenage girl taking her sweet little brother around Compo? Nothing.
The awws I got from parents and grandparents as I reminded my brother to say please and thank you and wish them a Happy Halloween were sweet.
But not as sweet as my victory.
My only concern is for the future. He’s already getting a little grown up to be trick-or-treating with his sister… What’s going to happen when he outgrows the holiday? I wonder how old my neighbors’ kids are…
