Boo who? Boo whomever!

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Redding that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the pumpkins that struggled against the darkness.

—Borrowed with liberties from Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

And so began Halloween in The Hamilton Zone, 2008 edition. Though we'd expected the mood to be gloomy with Kelly en route from a speaking engagement at a conference in Southern California, the weather forecast, at least, had called for just a 30% chance of rain. And yet, as the sun set, the clouds opened up and the winds let loose. I begged the kids to stay home and watch a movie, offering an entire Costco-issue bag of candy as a bribe. But they wanted nothing to do with it.

And so we set out, with Zach and Zoë in recycled costumes since we'd scrambled at last minute to pull this Halloween together, with pumpkins uncarved, our traditional meal of pigs in a blanket uncooked, and our yard undecorated. Only Zienna sported her choice of attire, a Baby Bop costume purchased off eBay for the unbelievably low price of $10. The down side was its foam rubber construction, which absorbed the rain like a sponge.

The other complicating factor was that, living in Redding, trick-or-treating options are, to put it mildly, limited. When we moved here, we learned the hard way that due to religious beliefs, many families don't celebrate the holiday. With its arrival just two months after we settled into our house in August 2006, we attempted to introduce "booing"—a ghoulish version of May Day—to our new neighbors. We painstakingly hand-selected treats for the families we'd selected, then left the loot on their doorsteps, only to learn with some embarrassment that one of them didn't celebrate Halloween.

Undaunted, we persevered last year by choosing two different families. But again, we unknowingly chose a household that held Halloween heretical. Then it dawned on us that—duh—only one out of every five or six houses on our block had its lights on for the big event. If we'd doubted to that point that we were one of the few families on the block celebrating Halloween, the preponderance of dark dwellings was all the proof we needed.

Such was the scene as we set out Friday night. And yet, as if candy karma had delivered her, Kelly pulled into the driveway just as we headed out. Without bothering to change and just thankful to have arrived in time, she joined us, running from house to house as the kids collected candy. And almost magically, Zienna went from fearful about even approaching a door to demanding to ring the doorbell to doing the whole Halloween routine—boisterously shouting "Trick or treat," "Thank you," and "Happy Halloween." Zach and Zoë could barely keep up with her!

In the end, with the rain intensifying, we loaded the kids in the truck and shortened the distance between houses by driving. Though Zach had to ride in back with the tailgate open because of his costume, it worked wonderfully—park central to two or three houses with lights on, hit them, and move on. We drove quite a distance, but our method was so efficient that the kids' bags were soon hanging quite low, heavy with tooth-destroying treasure.

By the time we arrived home, Zienna was completely sold on the process and Zach and Zoë were proclaiming it their best Halloween ever. I had to agree that, all kids' interests considered, things had turned out very, very well. Despite the tricks—the rain and the numerous dark homes—the night—including Kelly's ability to join us—had definitely been a treat.

A set of photos from the night is available for viewing on Flickr.