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I have one of those mothers who was overvigilant in her parenting when I grew up and often imposed long sentences of "you're grounded" without consulting the calendar first. Like a judicial order, she would often leave a post-it on the mirror at the end of the hall, something to the effect of: Stuff under the bed. Again! Grounded - three weeks. In that same script they all learned in Catholic school in the '50s.
On at least two occassions during the prime Halloween enjoyment ages, lets say 7-11, Halloween fell during one of these pronouncements. As a point of pride, my mother would never say something to her children "and not follow through" like all those hippie parents raising lawless, spoiled brats. So there was no negotiating. Every time the doorbell rang I wanted to (1) answer it and try and at least pilfer some of the candy we were handing out (2) die of embarrassment and (3) cry, angry angry ten-year-old tears.
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