What Ghosting Taught Me

Have you heard of this thing called "ghosting?" Kids ring your doorbell and run, leaving a bag of candy --- not poo, like when I was a kid --- and instructions on how to repeat the procedure to 3 of your neighbors. Kind of like a live version of e-spam, but friendlier. And less likely to involve fake pharmaceutical offers or porn. But maybe a little more dangerous. Let me explain.

So, tonight we had just put The Boy to bed. And Cooper, our 92-lb of yellow furry exuberance simply does not do well with the doorbell. I think he only had time to bark twice as I bounded to the door to answer someone who I was certain was mentally deficient or illiterate, or perhaps both -- I had a "Please Knock" sign on the doorbell. At least I *had*. Jen took it down, apparently. Looking out the window to see no one, I immediately figured, "Kids are a little early this year for Halloween." I ran outside to apprehend the culprit / culprits. I'll show them.

Even as I realized I was officially now devoid of any of the mirth of my youth, I knew the rascal had to be hiding close. It was silent, brisk fall dusky evening. No AC units running. No one rambling about, except for yours truly, in my bare feet, but determined to dispense vigilante justice. At this point, I have no idea what I am going to do when I catch the kid(s).

I look under the cars, on both sides of the house, under the neighbors' cars. Nada. By now, my eyes have adjusted to the twilight, which in my reading I have heard is the best time for military movement, given the fading light and the tricks it plays upon one's cones and rods.

A ha! There. A red shirt, frozen, staring back at me from the shadows of the starboard side of my house. I channel my inner adult and offer in my sternest tone, "Kommen-sie here." OK, I did not intone German, but the child marched straight to me. Not 2 sentences into my field interrogation, the kid blurts out, "I'm 's son." That stopped me. So-and-so is a friend. Wait. I *know* this kid. "D--? That you? What are you doing?"

About that time C-- comes up. Hilarity ensues. They explained the deal to me. Fill 3 bags with candy, and do the same to 3 neighbors. Cool. Sounds fun.

I thought when I first started this missive, that there was going to be some sage lesson to be had, some wisdom to convey to my youngster in the years that follow. About the only thing I could come up with was, "Son, when kids ring your door bell, try not to look like an a$$ in your bare feet and undershirt as you crawl on the ground looking beneath cars for tiny feet."

I sure hope I did not scare D--.