Rock or Treat ‘24

Halloween started out crisp and got to chilly right quick. Lots of good kids with ‘Happy Halloweens’, ‘Trick or Treats’, and ‘Thank Yous’. (A few greedy grabbers but whatcha gonna do?)

I like the teens. They know they’re too old, but I always give them a big warm hello because adulthood is way overrated. There’s plenty of time to drink strawberry wine in the park.

Rather than get the door every two seconds (and staying on high alert making sure the cat doesn’t get out) we set up camp at the bottom of the steps with a couple of folding chairs and the bench from the back deck. Like a lot of things, it was something we started during Covid and thought, ‘Oh, this is actually a good idea.’

But I digress.

For the last few Halloweens I’ve made pet rocks, or Rock-Or-Treats. Nothing crazy. I go to Home Depot, get a bag of rocks, and hot glue some googly eyes.

I… can’t help myself.

https://www.instagram.com/rock_or_treat/

I like the arts and crafts of it, the creativity. I pull the rock out of the bag, roll it around in my hand, and let it speak to me. It whispers where it wants the eyes, or if it wants just one, if it needs hair, a mouth, etc.

But I also like the social experiment of it…

“Ok,” I say as I point to the bench when a gang of ninjas and ghosts appear. “You can have a pile of candy, a pile of candy, a pet rock, a pile of candy, or a pile of candy.”

When I say the pet rock part, I pause for effect. I want the parent to take notice. They usually step up from the sidewalk to see. They nod and smile with approval because they dig the low calorie alternative.

But the 8 and under set zero in on the candy…

“Are you sure,” I ask gesturing to the busy block in front of me. “Because I mean, where else can you possibly get candy tonight?”

The parents laugh, but I know the kid is thinking, ‘Dude, all I get is Goldfish, ok? Or apple slices. I have lots of toys I don’t play with. I don’t need a rock. But what I don’t have is candy. I want the candy.’

Most of the older kids go for the rock, though. They know it’s a rarity and if you really want a full size bar you can always go to the 7-Eleven. At the end of night when you’re going through your haul, no one else is gonna pull out a bespoke rock.

(I want to imagine that the trade value is pretty high, like Reese’s Big Cup high. But that might be prideful thinking on my part.)

At one point late in the evening four older teen girls strolled up. I did NOT know what their costumes were. Chappell Roans? Dunno. But I noted their sartorial choices did not seem weather appropriate. And as a dad I wished their ensemble included at least a sweater or fleece jacket.

I did my bench routine for them, but when I got to the pet rock part they were all agog.

“What?! Oh, I want a rock!”
“Can I get a rock?!”
“I want one!”
“IS THERE ANOTHER?!”

Again, they’re not anything fancy. They’re just… different. And zero sugar.

As it got darker and colder, Pam kept upping the stakes; like it was her own personal ‘Squid Game’.

“All these sours, plus a peanut butter cup, a Snickers, AND a Milky Way,” she said making the enticing bite size pile. “Let’s see how bad they want the rock.”

But I can tell you with some certainty that as soon as a kid sees the rock and does the math, they want the rock. It doesn’t matter how robust the pile next to it. They’re all about the rock. That said, I think Pam was also employing an exit strategy. Because the more candy given away, the sooner we could put up the OUT OF CANDY sign, shut off the lights, and retreat inside to where it was warm.

Which eventually we did.

Anyhoo, another Costco Candy Exchange in the books…

NOTE: With all the 100 Grand bars I consumed, I went to bed a millionaire. #sorrynotsorry

#🎃👻 🥷 🪨 🍭🧑🏻‍🚀👸🏻