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It’s one of those October nights that feels like it’s trying to make up for all the bad days before it. Crisp air, leaves underfoot that crunch in the most satisfying way, a sky the color of velvet stretched wide above your lovely little New England town. It’s delightfully and surprisingly warm for this time of year; your kids were elated they didn’t need to wear their winter coats tonight. Streetlights flicker on one by one, haloing the sidewalks in warm amber as kids spill out of houses in adorable costumes.
You’re halfway down Maple Street when Sammie takes off again, fluffy pink tulle skirt bouncing, tiny fairy wings flashing in the light. “Sammie, wait for us!” Steve calls after her, but she’s already halfway to the next house, plastic pumpkin clutched tight in her tiny hand. Her costume is proudly, unmistakably homemade: her skirt uneven in places where she insisted on “helping,” her wings stitched by you over three late nights, the glitter on them already beginning to migrate to everyone’s clothes.
“She’s like a sugar-seeking missile,” you say.
“Wonder where she gets that from,” Steve mutters, glancing sidelong at you with a grin that still makes your stomach flip. “I’ll make sure to confiscate all of her Milky Ways for inspection later.”
You roll your eyes, shifting Joey higher on your hip. He’s dressed as a little bumblebee (equally DIY: black and yellow felt stripes hand-sewn onto a cozy hoodie, wings made from old wire hangers and scrap fabric) and his head is resting against your shoulder, eyes wide as he watches Sammie dart ahead. He’s been like this all evening: half curious, half terrified, completely content to be carried.
“You wanna walk for a bit, honey?” you ask. He shakes his head so fast it makes his tiny antennae wobble. “Okay,” you whisper, kissing his hair. “You just let me know..”
You and Steve are dressed in what can only be described as minimal, bone-tired parent costumes: characters from the twins’ latest obsession: If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. You’re in— quite frankly, very dumpy— overalls, splattered with paint from when you redid the kids’ bathroom. You’ve got homemade mouse ears on a headband, and whiskers drawn on in eyeliner. You’re a mouse in the gentlest, most half-committed way possible. And Steve, in a tan shirt with dark brown felt circles taped all over, is a cookie by way of “we did this for the kids, and also we ran out of time”. The kids shrieked with happiness when you put them on. So you counted it as a smashing success all around.
Up ahead, Sammie’s already ringing the next doorbell, bouncing on her toes. A nice older woman opens the door, smiling as Sammie launches into her greeting at full volume: “Trick or treat! I’m a fairy princess and I have a brother and he’s a bee but he’s scared of everything so he’s with my mom back there!”
You and Steve both groan in unison.
The woman laughs kindly and drops a handful of candy into Sammie’s pumpkin. “Tell your brother I have extra chocolate for brave bees,” she says, smiling at Joey.
Sammie spins around, beaming. “Joey! She said chocolate!”
That gets his attention. He lifts his head, eyes flicking toward the porch. “Chocolate?” he whispers. As if he just remembered the reward for this entire holiday.
You glance at Steve, who stands beside you, holding out his hands. “Come on, bud. Let’s go say trick or treat. I’ll go with you.”
Joey hesitates, gripping your sleeve for a second before slowly planting his tiny sneakers on the ground. His little fingers curl around his dad’s hand, and Steve takes it gladly. “All right, my brave bee, let’s go.”
They approach the porch together, Steve holding Joey’s hand, Sammie dancing in circles beside them. You hear it, soft and careful, when Joey finally whispers, “Trick or treat.”
The woman’s smile is pure delight. “Well done, little bee,” she says, slipping a few chocolates into his pumpkin.
When they come back down the steps, Joey’s grinning shyly, eyes sparkling with pride. “I did it,” he tells you.
“You sure did,” you say, bending down to kiss his cheek. “And you were so polite.”
Sammie immediately pipes up, “I was polite too!”
“You were very polite,” Steve assures her, trying not to laugh as he adjusts the little plastic crown that keeps slipping in your daughter’s curls. “Except for the part where you told that lady your brother’s scared of everything.”
She frowns thoughtfully. “But he is.”
Steve snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, but maybe don’t lead with that next time.”
You walk like that for a while, Sammie darting from house to house like a comet, Steve jogging after her, Joey alternating between being carried and toddling along beside you, holding your hand tight. After you’ve exhausted the block, Sammie turns around and yells, “Come on, we’re missing the good candy!”
“You better be bringing all the best candy to your aunt and uncle’s house!” a voice calls from behind you.
Sammie turns around so quickly she nearly topples over, and squeals at the sight of Eddie and Robin walking toward you on the sidewalk.
Eddie’s carrying a coffee cup that’s definitely not coffee, raising it like a toast when he spots you. “Brought provisions for the grown-ups!” he calls out, baring his fake vampire fangs, cape swirling. Robin walks in tandem with him, decked out in layers of black clothing and chunky jewelry, which you vaguely recognize from that movie about the witches that she was obsessed with. The Neve Campbell character, you think.
“Pinot noir, my good man,” Eddie says, offering a second coffee cup to Steve.
You grin, accepting your own cup from Robin. “God bless you.”
Sammie, already glued to Eddie’s side, gasps at his fake blood and points accusingly. “You’re bleeding!”
He gasps right back, clutching his chest. “What?!” he shrieks, but Sammie just giggles wildly.
Meanwhile, Joey’s pressed a little tighter against your leg, eyes big and uncertain as he takes in Eddie’s blood-streaked grin. “Is Uncle Eddie okay?” he whispers.
Eddie instantly softens, crouching down to Joey’s level. “Hey, little dude. It’s just pretend, see?” He swipes a bit of the fake blood with his finger, licks it (then makes a ridiculous gagging face). “Blegh. Cherry. My least favorite flavor.”
That earns him a small smile from Joey. “It’s fake?”
“Completely fake,” Eddie says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Joey studies him for another moment, then relaxes, reaching out a cautious hand toward Eddie’s plastic fangs. “The teeth are real?”
“Nope,” Eddie says, popping them free and handing them over like a magician revealing his trick. “You can try ‘em if you promise not to bite your sister.”
Joey giggles. “Okay.”
Steve walks a few steps ahead with Sammie and Eddie, watching as Eddie points dramatically at the next house. “All right, fairy princess,” he declares, “we go in strong, we go in fast, and we say the magic words.”
Sammie nods seriously. “Trick or treat!”
“Atta girl.” Eddie leans down conspiratorially. “And remember, if they have mini Snickers, those are for me.”
Robin shakes her head but she’s smiling, eyes warm when she looks back at Joey, still hovering behind you. “Hey, little bee,” she says softly, crouching down so they’re at eye level. “You flying solo tonight?"
Joey shakes his head, shy as ever, thumb pressed against his candy bucket handle.
Robin holds out her hand. “You wanna walk with me for a bit? I’ll be your wingman. Promise I won’t make you talk to any scary skeletons or anything.”
He hesitates for a moment, looking up at you for confirmation, then nods and takes her hand.
And just like that, the four of you fall into step: the tiny fairy and her loud uncle darting from porch to porch, the quiet bee and his patient aunt making their way at a slower pace, with you and Steve trailing behind, cups of disguised wine warming you up from the inside.
Up ahead, Robin kneels beside Joey at a porch, whispering something that makes him laugh, small and nervous but real. He looks up at her, then turns to the open door and says, just a little louder than before, “Trick or treat!”
The woman at the door beams, dropping a candy bar into his bucket. Robin throws both fists into the air. “Yes! Nailed it!”
Joey beams, bouncing on his toes.
You charge forward like this for a while longer, but after a couple more blocks, you can see it in both kids— the way Sammie’s wings are drooping, the way Joey is dragging his feet. The twins are fading fast.
Steve notices it at the same time you do. He lifts his cup toward Eddie and Robin. “We calling it?”
Eddie checks on Sammie, who is now leaning against his leg and blinking slowly, the telltale signs of a child who will soon insist she is not tired moments before collapsing. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Our fearless leader is losing steam.”
Robin nods, brushing Joey’s hair out of his eyes; he sways a little in her direction, thumb creeping toward his mouth. “I think our bee’s batteries are dying.”
“That’s our cue,” Steve says.
The five-minute walk to Eddie and Robin’s house is somehow both quiet and chaotic. Your little troupe drifts down the sidewalk, Sammie insisting she wants to walk but holding Eddie’s hand with both of hers, Joey half-asleep in Robin’s arms, and you and Steve trading glances over their heads. The good, warm kind. The kind that makes your chest tighten.
When the ramshackle, twinkly-light-warmed Munson-Buckley house comes into view, Sammie perks up. “Movie?” she asks sleepily.
Eddie scoops her up without hesitation, cradling her like she weighs nothing. “You better believe it, princess. I’ve got the perfect spooky-but-not-too-spooky tape lined up.”
“You picked the tape?” Robin asks, locking the front door behind you all.
“Yeah, it’s some Mickey Mouse bullshit, I dunno,” he murmurs, earning himself a swat from Steve.
“Come on, man,” he chastises.
“Is there kissing?” Sammie asks. She’s only just discovered the concept, and isn’t quite sure how to feel about it in movies.
“Hm…” Eddie ponders. “Y’know I can’t say for sure. But very minimal, if any.”
The living room is warm and cluttered and familiar; bowls of popcorn materialize, candy buckets are dumped out onto the coffee table, and Robin uncorks another bottle of wine as Eddie pops a tape in the VCR.
Robin plops onto the couch beside you and Steve, handing you both fresh glasses of wine poured into mismatched mugs. “For the grown-ups who survived Halloween with two tiny chaos gremlins.”
Steve takes a long sip. “Have I mentioned I love ya, Buckley?”
On the floor, Sammie has positioned herself directly next to Eddie, mimicking the way he sits: legs stretched out, ankles crossed, arms thrown over the back of a beanbag like she owns the room. She digs through her candy bucket with the same dramatic flair he does, huffing a little each time she finds something she considers sub-par.
Meanwhile Joey has taken a spot beside Robin, carefully sorting his candy into neat piles: chocolates, gummies, lollipops. Robin watches him with exaggerated seriousness.
“Do you like this one, Aunt Robin?” he asks, picking a Twizzler out of his pile of twenty of them.
“Are you kidding?” Robin asks, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. “It’s my favorite!”
Joey imitates her immediately, taking a piece from his bucket and nibbling it slowly, eyes flicking up to see if she approves.
She grins at him. “Good taste.”
Across the room, Sammie is now holding up a Milky Way. “Is this good?”
Eddie gasps. “Only the best,” he says, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, those are your mom’s favorites. I would hold onto those for bribing purposes next time you’re in trouble.”
“Eddie!” you call out.
Steve laughs beside you, that low, warm sound that never fails to find the softest place in your chest. He leans in, elbow nudging yours. “Well,” he says lightly, “he’s not wrong.”
You turn your head, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?”
Steve shrugs, totally unrepentant. “I mean… I do keep Milky Ways stocked at all times so you’re never mad at me.”
Your mouth drops open. “You do what?”
“It’s fiiiiiiiiiine,” Steve says. “It’s strategy, or diplomacy, right?” He raises his eyebrows toward Robin, who holds her hands up as if to say there’s no way in hell I’m getting involved in this.
You glare at him. “That’s not how that works.”
“It is exactly how that works,” he says, leaning in until your noses nearly brush. “I know my wife.”
“I am deeply, profoundly offended,” you tell him, lying through your teeth.
“No you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
He kisses you before you can argue again, quick, sweet, smug.
From the floor, Eddie makes a strangled gagging sound. “Oh, GROSS!” he groans, throwing himself backward onto the carpet with his arms flung wide. “I told Sammie there would be no kissing!"
Sammie, already overtired and giggly, shrieks with laughter and rolls dramatically across the rug. “NO KISSING!” she echoes, her tiny voice full of delighted outrage.
Joey, predictably, bursts into a fit of soft, hiccuping giggles. “Daddy kissed Mommy,” he whispers to Robin like he’s tattling in church.
Robin nudges Joey’s shoulder. “Classic your dad move,” she loudly whispers back. “Zero self-control. Complete and total loverboy.”
A giggle escapes you too; she’s definitely right about that.