My daughter and I have developed a ritual salutation over the years. I most look forward to the perfectly world-weary tone of her voice. I tell myself it is part of the act, but secretly worry about the thought bubble.
I was pretty confident as we made plans for it that the last year I was allowed to go trick or treating with her was to
be the last, simply because she was arriving at the age where having her father on hand for Halloween was going to be too much to bear.
(In fact, it became altogether clear this was so when I was asked that evening to remain at a distance from her group as they
marched from door to door.) In order to make the occasion memorable, I decided to carry a combination
flashlight/rotating red emergency light/siren‐equipped device. Every ten minutes or so, I would announce to the group of girls who were trying to ignore me,
Time for a test of the emergency system!
and activate the alarm and rotating red light. I am reasonably sure my daughter
was mortified by my antics, and today it is why I worry about the thought bubble. Not because she isn’t special, but because
she figures the old man is a nut.