Like this:

I have a love/hate relationship with Hallowe’en.

On one hand, I love dressing up. It’s fun. Lets me break out a frilly crinoline and some wings I’ve had stashed in the closet for some time. The kids found it years ago and asked me what was up? So I told them: they’re Mommy’s work clothes. When you go to sleep at night, I put it all on and head out as the Tooth Fairy for district 613 E. You should have seen their eyes. They got as big as toilet bowls. “Really? Really Mummy? For true?”

“Of course” sez I.

“Let me see the teeth! What do you do with them all?”

“I can’t tell you. That’s a secret. And I’m not YOUR Tooth Fairy – that’d be a conflict of interest. Your Tooth Fairy is actually a guy. He’s got a jet pack instead of wings but frankly, I like the wings better. They’re much quieter.”

Telling them their tooth fairy was a man caused a minor uproar so I didn’t mention that the uniform consists of a wife-beater and a pair of black suspenders and black dress pants which, come to think of it, is what my Grand Dad wore when he was frying eggs and bacon of a Sunday morning.

But I’m getting off the point.

Hallowe’en is a tricky time of year. I love dressing up, I love seeing all the children and teasing their parents and generally participating in the neighbourhood mayhem that is All Hallow’s Eve. It’s a great time to connect again after a busy fall. That part is fantastic.

I hate candy. Which is to say, I love candy. But I hate that I love it. I hate that I love it soooooo much that any vestiges of self-control I manage to scrape together the other 364 days a year disappear in a haze of a Toblerone-induced mania.

Sigh.

It never seems to change. Despite everything I know (my mantra is “Diabetes is Bad. Diabetes is Very Very Bad”) it seems that the least I can do is eat it all. And I’m shameless! My poor darling Ferrets have no chance against their wily mother. Because, in the immortal words of the Pack Rat:

“Old Age and Treachery will beat Youth and Enthusiasm. Every @#!!$#@#!!!!!! time.”

Well, he doesn’t say it precisely like that. I put my own spin on it.

I have no honour. I’ll stoop to the lowest level of conniving to get my mitts on a sweet bit of chocolate. I’ll tell them I’m “checking the candy” even though I know personally every single person they visit. I’ll steal it while they’re at school. I’ll brazenly take it from under their twitching little noses. I’m terrible.

And I’m telling you this, poppets, in an effort to shame myself into better behaviour. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. Here I sit marinating in the adoration of children - I have been charged with a momentous and long-term duty. I am a role model – if they don’t learn moderation from me, they won’t learn it anywhere else. I have power and I must be responsible with it.

They don’t let just anyone be the Tooth Fairy (District 613 E) you know.

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