“Do you ever think about the last time?” my teen asked, scrolling through old photos. “Like the last time I played with a toy or the last time you picked me up?”
That question hit hard, especially with Halloween right around the corner. This year, my 15-year-old isn’t going trick-or-treating. Just like that, an era ended—no big announcement, no final hurrah. It got me thinking about how these “lasts” slip by quietly, without us even realizing it.
When Halloween Quietly Changes
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Halloween, like life, is always changing. We’ve celebrated in all sorts of places—from the storybook streets of Celebration, Florida, where it felt like Hocus Pocus could spring to life any second, to quieter Halloweens in Riyadh, where finding a costume meant a trip to the tailor (a witch for my daughter, a Grim Reaper for my son).
But no matter where we were, Halloween always meant one thing: trick-or-treating. This year, that tradition is coming to an end. And when trick-or-treating fades, it feels like more than just a holiday we’re leaving behind—it’s a piece of childhood quietly slipping away, almost unnoticed.
Embracing the Change
Change happens, whether we’re ready for it or not. But that doesn’t mean Halloween has to stop being fun—it just looks a little different. Maybe now it’s about scary movie marathons, carving pumpkins together, or hosting a cozy-themed night. Sure, it’s not the sugar-fueled chaos of running door to door, but it still holds its own kind of magic.
What’s Next?
As parents, we adjust. Bit by bit, year by year, we let go of certain traditions and embrace new ones. Halloween is just one of those milestones that reminds us how quickly they grow. While trick-or-treating may be in the rearview mirror, there’s still so much to enjoy—whether it’s through new traditions or simply watching them carve out their own fun.
Because in the end, the real treat is watching them grow, change, and step into the next chapter—while we savor the memories of every Halloween that came before.
