So we went out last night in the Other Liberal Professor's 'hood. The Kid was a dragon ("I am a dragon from a spell-cast village," she announced. "I need lots of candy to save the world.") and Miles was a very dapper green Power Ranger and Mick was a handsome cowboy. We scored big time on the candy, let me tell you.
Mick was excellent at finding houses that were giving the candy. (Not all houses do, in AR. This is due to the Fundie thing. Because Halloween is the holiday of the devil, say many of our churches here*. So many people will not give candy or put out pumpkins, because they would be encouraging Satan's work by doing so. But, this being the South, no one wants to be rude about it, so we have evolved a polite way to indicate who thinks Halloween is evil and who's cool with it: if you're cool with it, you put out a pumpkin and leave your porch light on. If you think it's Satan's work, you do no pumpkining and keep all your lights off. Very civil, in't it?) Anyway, Mick, by the time we had gone half a block, had figured this system out --- he's 20 months old -- and was finding the next target and pointing it out to us, urging us on to the candy, the candy! He's a clever boy, our Mick.
Me, I was ready to head home by the 21st house ("Don't we have enough candy?" I hinted, because their plastic pumpkins were full) but I got scoffed at. Enough candy? What was I talking? We pressed on! We got more candy!
Then we collapsed! Luckily we were not far from the Other Liberal Professor's home at that point, because when 8 and 5 year olds collapse, it is not a pretty sight, even if they are dragons and Power Rangers.
*Here's an ancient post of mine on the topic