The Bittersweet Demise of the Halloween Fairy

One of the best things about being a parent is dwelling in the world of children. Take Halloween—yes, adults have fun dressing up and being goofballs, but nothing matches the sheer delight of trick-or-treating. Going “alone” to the doors of strangers’ houses at night (usually forbidden), asking them for something (imagine the nerve!) and receiving large quantities of the greatest stuff on earth (unheard of). Then eating pretty much all you want. All this while playing dress up. It’s pure kid heaven.

This Halloween though, I could glimpse the final days of this real-life childhood fantasy. This year my kids decided they were done with the Halloween Fairy.

The Halloween Fairy is something I invented when my firstborn was a few years old. This being my firstborn, it was still the halcyon days of yore when I was able to control the substances that went into her body. In other words, she rarely had sweets simply because I didn’t make them available to her. It was the first year she really got the concept—she was maybe three—and I was dreading bringing all that candy into the house. And so that was the year I told her about the Halloween Fairy, a lovely delightful lady who came at night and took the Halloween candy from the fireplace mantel and replaced it with a wonderful gift.

It worked like a charm that year, and soon the anticipation of what the Halloween Fairy might bring became more exciting and enticing than the candy haul. After my son was old enough to partake, even he—a child who would happily subsist on nothing but white sugar—happily turned over his candy on Halloween night, overjoyed with whatever replaced it.

This year, at the ages of 8 and 11, my kids decided they were done with the Halloween Fairy. “YOU’RE the Halloween Fairy” my son accused. “I’m not giving anything to the Halloween Fairy this year” my daughter (obviously in the know) announced.

And so, the Halloween Fairy was not invited to our home on Halloween night. And so, 10 pounds of cheap, packaged confections sit in my pantry with daily negotiations and cajoling to follow for some time. (Not to mention enormous quantities of self-restraint.)

And you know what? I’m OK with that. This was the eleventh year in a row that I have thrilled to the childlike delights of costumes and trick-or-treating. It was the first year I decided it wasn’t essential for me to make treats for the classrooms and then frantically run back and forth between Halloween parties at school, making myself crazy.

I’ve done Halloween Big Time for more than a decade now, and loved every minute of it. But this phase of my kids’ life is drawing to an end. And it’s OK. May the Halloween Fairy rest in peace.

Stacy Pena is a Silicon Valley mom who takes her kids trick-or-treating in the same neighborhood she grew up in.