The first time my oldest son went trick-or-treating, he was dressed up as a bumblebee, but he turned into a monster. Because, paradoxically, inundation always ends with a sense of deprivation…
My son was two-years-old when it happened. We dressed him up in a puffy black and yellow costume, and we rang his first Halloween doorbell. As the first pieces of candy disappeared into his bag, he was too overwhelmed with wonder to utter a word.
By the third house, he had recovered his speech, and he expressed his childlike gratitude. By the fifth house, he was doing drive-by trick-or-treating—the candy hadn’t hit the bottom of the bag before he was hitting the sidewalk for the next score. By the seventh house, I think he would have wrestled the loot from the woman’s hands if he’d been big enough to take her. And by the end of the evening, when we told him it was time to stop, he was angry, because even at his age, he knew we hadn’t turned over every rock in search of sugar.
From a sense of wonder to a sense of deprivation. In about thirty minutes.
It doesn’t take long for opulence to change our lives.