Tuesday, October 2, 2012

We Got Booed

Caleb enjoyed traveling to a birthday party in the chicken limo!

A few nights ago I was tucking little boys into bed when a ring from the doorbell cut into our evening routine.  Boys that minutes before looked drowsy, popped out of bed and rushed to the front door.  We flicked on the porch light and swung upon the door.  Little eyes spotted it immediately.  Right next to pots of crimson mums and array of pumpkins sat a brown paper bag dotted with candy corn stickers.  Squeals echoed through the house.  The boys knew instantly what had happened: we'd been booed!

Booing was a foreign concept to me before we moved into this neighborhood.  Our first year in the house, come October, I began to see white ghost signs plastered on neighbor's front doors.  I didn't understand how and why these signs appeared on the front door until the night we received the ring, the bag, and the sign of our own.  The boys were ecstatic.  It was if they received all the benefits of trick or treating (i.e. candy) without all the walking.  Score.

Per the rules of booing, the night after receiving the boo bag the recipient family distributes two more bags to two other neighbors.  Although the boys certainly appreciate being the recipient of the booing, they love serving as the distributors even more.  After school, the boo plans began to formulate.  They discussed potential targets.  Strategized the optimal time for distribution coupled with a stealth escape plan.  

We waited until sundown.  Then under the blanket of darkness, we darted into the van.  As planned, the van crept along the streets sans headlights (even the radio was clicked off).  We rolled up to our first target's (friend's) house.  The boys requested I park down the street hidden behind a clump of trees.

In silence we motioned towards Caleb and all bid him "Godspeed."   Clad in dark colors, Caleb crept along the sidewalk and then tiptoed onto his friend's patio.  He sat the bag down gingerly and then with a flick of the wrist hit the doorbell and the sprinted off the porch.  The other boys couldn't contain their giddiness as they watched Caleb rush down the street under the fear of "getting caught."  There were cries in the van to "Go, Go" and leave poor Caleb behind.  I reminded them of our motto, "No man left behind," but that didn't seem to matter when it came to booing.  I inched the car forward as Caleb leaped into the passenger door.  We gunned it down the streets, the van swirling with adrenaline and bliss.

So the process continued again at the next house with just as much enjoyment. 

Once all the bags were gone and we rolled into our driveway, the boys rushed into our house flushed with excitement.  They babbled on about the whole experience, smiling all the while.  My smile was just as broad. 

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