I remember being very fond of Halloween when I was younger. I once dressed as a bunch of grapes, a costume I made by safety pinning many purple balloons to an oversized sweatshirt and bobby pinning a green felt stem atop my head. I looked like raisins by the end, so often did I pop a grape on prickly bushes along the way.

My whole family and my sister's close friends once dressed as giant butts. I haven't the slightest idea why. Were they a Saturday Night Live thing?

I trick-or-treated well into high school. Now that I wrack my brain, I think those grapes were for a night out with my boyfriend and our pals. I wonder what he and they dressed up as.

In general though, I've never been a fan of costumes, and since leaving for college, I don't think I've donned one. For Halloween or otherwise. My most inspired college get-up was "Night"- I wore black and used eyeliner to draw a star on one cheek and a moon on the other.

Lame. My guy friends way outdid me. I was ok with that. Still am.

Tom and I did dress Percy in a tuxedo when he was a pup, and Tom one year -maybe that same year? for our "first child"- wore doctor scrubs. I can't imagine what had come over us.

Long story short, Halloween is not my favorite holiday. Not by a mile, but of course, the kids adore it! Wait for it! Think about it for months!

And tonight, Sherlock and Phantom decided to orphan T and me by going trick-or-treating with friends.

Jack's best buddy turned 10 today, and he invited my boys to join him and his brother and a pal. I assumed Oliver would want to stay with us, but once Jack talked up his buddy's enthusiastic neighborhood, there was no turning back. Ol would rake in the candy.

Momentarily, I felt sad. I also felt those oh-so-familiar pangs of maternal guilt and worry: "aren't I supposed to be walking the rounds with them? Making sure they're saying thank you as well as trick or treat? Being present during this tradition?"

But then my heart bloomed with pride, for the confidence and independence the boys carry with them more and more frequently. For the ways they are forging their own paths, brick by brick.

That is as it should be.

Earlier, I showed Jack how to knot his scarf the European way. "It will look more Sherlockian that way, honey."

He mastered the figure eight move in a flash, and I looked upon my handsome boy proudly.

"Honey, do you want to wear a light sweater under your trench? It really might get chilly tonight."

"Mom, I'm fine. Really. I'm all good." No sass, no sarcasm. Just the facts, ma'am.

I love seeing him in this capacity. If it had turned out to be freezing, he'd have learned a lesson. But he made a calculated decision based on what he knew of today's temperature and tonight's forecast, and he's right. He's totally fine out there. I know it.

Oliver, meanwhile, said, "Don't be sad, mama. You won't be lonely. You have Daddy and we won't be home late."

And he's right too.

Tom made a gumbo, I steamed the rice. And when the boys got home, we all ate together. They told us all about their evening, we watched the inventory comparison and they bartered and gifted. Both passed me an Almond Joy. "Mom, we got these just for you. At the first house."

And I beamed and ate both and hugged my babes tight.