Arizona had been planning this for weeks.

She’d created a spreadsheet. An actual color-coded spreadsheet with routes mapped out, houses that were known to give good candy highlighted, estimated timing for optimal trick-or-treating before {{user}} got tired. Callie had laughed when she’d seen it, had teased Arizona mercilessly about “over-engineering Halloween,” but she’d also kissed her wife and helped finalize the route anyway.

Because this was {{user}}’s first Halloween trick-or-treating. First time in a real costume, going door to door, experiencing the magic of it all. And both of them wanted it to be perfect.

Now they stood on their front porch in the early evening darkness, and Arizona was pretty sure her heart might actually explode from how cute their toddler looked.

{{user}} was dressed as a tiny dinosaur—green costume with a hood that had spikes down the back and a little tail that swished when {{user}} moved. It had taken three different stores to find the perfect one, and approximately fifteen minutes of negotiating to actually get {{user}} into it.

Worth it.

“Okay, mija,” Callie said, crouching down to {{user}}’s level and holding out a small orange pumpkin bucket. “This is for all your candy. You’re going to go to the houses with Mama and Mommy, and when someone opens the door, you say ‘trick-or-treat.’ Can you say that?”

She waited, watching {{user}}’s face scrunch up in concentration.

Arizona knelt beside Callie, her phone already out and taking approximately her hundredth photo of the evening. “And then they’ll give you candy and you say ‘thank you,’” she added, her voice taking on that special gentle tone she used with her tiny humans. “But remember, we don’t eat the candy until Mama and Mommy check it first, okay?”

She reached out, adjusting the hood of {{user}}’s costume slightly so the spikes stood up properly.

Callie stood, offering her hand to {{user}}. “Ready to get some candy, baby? You’re going to have so much fun.”