At 5 p.m. last night, our street was silent and lifeless as a mausoleum. I turned back from the kitchen window and said to Richie, "So how many trick or treat-ers do you think we'll get? I bet less than five."
He was engrossed in the BBC news and I had to repeat myself.
"Oh, surely more than five!" he protested before turning back to the TV.
We had nine.
But he cheated. Later in the evening, I glanced out the kitchen window to see this sight: He was standing in the middle of the street with a big bag of candy in each hand, waving down motorists!
Good thing no money was bet. I'd still be screaming!
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