Halloween is the one time we do the unthinkable - we knock on a neighbour’s door unannounced

Of course, a lot of the onus on parents is coming up with a costume. While many parents seek to do something clever and current (brace yourself for a sea of Donald Trumps), I feel it comes back to KISS, something a former teacher taught me. Before you get any ideas, I am, of course, talking about the old mantra ‘keep it simple, stupid,’ the latter word being thankfully not uttered in a classroom since circa the Good Friday Agreement.

Unless your child is an avid follower of CNN, it’s perhaps best to avoid American politics and stick with the classics: witch, ghost, and Revenue officer.

Last year, we made the rookie error of letting our eldest choose his Halloween costume. Never again will I give a child of naíonara-going age the power to choose what to wear. Most of life’s problems could be solved with less choice, not more. So this week, we presented an outfit to each child: a skeleton costume for the four-year-old and a Superman costume for the baby. Thankfully, the older boy got on board because Mammy has a matching skeleton dress, which will facilitate numerous jokes about finally reaching my target weight.

As a naturally very pale girl — my foundation shade is 'rigor mortar' — Halloween has always been one of my favourite times of year because suddenly pale is en vogue, especially if you plan on transforming yourself into Wednesday Adams or Ed Sheeran. As a surly teen in the ’90s, Halloween was when my wardrobe — primarily black, sometimes punctuated with lighter black — was in fashion, and all my regular daytime ensembles could easily double up as fancy dress. It was always my day to shine — dully, of course, but shine nonetheless.

Halloween can bring a community together. In modern life, people often bemoan not knowing their neighbours, though if wifi names are anything to go by, that might not be a bad thing (note to self: we won’t be accepting any conspicuous-looking candy from the users of PschyoWifi999). But October 31 is when we do the unthinkable — knock on a neighbour’s door unannounced. As is often the way, our mutual children bridge the gap for us because a 35-year-old knocking on a door and asking for treats isn’t met with the same welcome. Trust me, I’ve been burned before, but maybe that’s Dublin for you.

Some people may turn off the lights and pretend not to be home, but most will greet the kids with a smile and a few sweets and dutifully complement the efforts made — even if some trick-or-treaters are suspiciously tall and deep-voiced. Call me old-fashioned, but once you’re old enough to vote, it’s time to call it a day with the Scream masks.

We talk of Christmas spirit, but Halloween miracles also occur annually. For example, the surly software designer down the road who comes up trumps with some five-star trick-or-treating bags and a doorbell that makes a witch’s cackle upon pressing.

It is amazing how even the most dour of neighbours can turn out a spooktacular effort this time of year. Suddenly, we are looking at them in a new light, as every time we pass the plastic tombstone outside their house, our kids squeal with delight, and we as adults are reminded of our mortality of a Monday.

Of course, for all the modern takes, the craic is still to be had in the traditional stuff, as the perennial appeal of bobbing for an apple is still unparalleled — that is until somebody loses a baby tooth going a little too hard on a Pink Lady. Just last week, my four-year-old was thrilled when he found the ring in the brack. I’m not sure he fully understands that this means he will be getting married within the year, but tradition is tradition.

On the night that’s in it, I look forward to calling into neighbours and sniffing out what they have to offer. It is the best part of Halloween for sure — an excuse to say ‘Hi’, a small gesture in the spirit of the festivities, and I love checking out people’s hallway decor.

However, if you want to cement the distance between you and your neighbours and discourage any social interactions going forward, simply arm yourself with monkey nuts. Nothing says ‘I am an island’ than presenting nuts to a child at Halloween, so if you never want to see us again, you know what to do. And if two skeletons and a superhero call to your door, just know I’m quite partial to a Mars bar, despite what my skeletal frame might suggest.