Halloween, that is. This comes from a mother who loathed it, who complained loudly about having her evening interrupted by a bunch of silly children dressed in costumes.
As you can imagine, I didn't go trick or treating much --- I remember exactly two times, and one of them once spent trying to cut two simple eyeholes in a sheet so as to be a ghost. My mother and I fought over that for some reason --- viciously. Either she didn't want a sheet ruined or she felt I was cutting the holes in the right way and/or right place. I threw on a v-neck sweater, borrowed some pom-poms from a neighbor, and tried to pass myself off as a cheerleader.
I wondered what would happen when I became a parent, and how the event would be handled. Our firstborn was so shy, so withdrawn, that even the mention of Halloween would put a look of abject terror on his face. Plus, he didn't like candy that much. Problem solved.
Until secondborn. Whom no one could ever describe as shy, who adores not only dressing up, but designing costumes, making costumes, wearing costumes on days not even near October. So, some serious bucking up was called for, and we made it through the trick-or-treating years without either of them being too damaged or disappointed. I think.
But I still don't like it.