Dropping Halloween Demands: Embracing the Mess and Finding Joy

I have such a complex relationship with Halloween and the transition into fall and winter holidays. For years, it’s been a time where the gap between expectation and reality has felt like a canyon for us as a family — and where much of my own pain and grief has lived.

This “magical time of year” has, quite honestly, been among our very worst times of year.

Holidays, especially when you’re parenting neurodivergent kids, can be excruciatingly hard. It’s supposed to be all fun and joy, but often it’s anything but. And I’ve learned that it’s absolutely okay if we choose to let some things go.

So, let me just say it:

It’s okay if you don’t carve a pumpkin.

It’s okay if you skip the fall farm or the corn maze.

It’s okay if your kid decides to be a “black hole” and turns their shirt inside out 15 minutes before trick-or-treating (mine did last year, and honestly, it worked out just fine).

It’s okay if your kid wants to stay home and watch movies.

It’s okay if you skip Halloween entirely.

It’s okay if your kid changes their mind about their costume over and over (and over) again.

I’ve dropped the demand that we settle on one costume early on—or even at a convenient time for me. Honestly, I’ve also declared that all costume components must be ordered from Amazon so that I can easily return whatever doesn’t work. This is survival mode, and it works for us.

When we discuss potential costumes, our first question is about comfort and sensory needs. Over the years, we’ve agreed on one non-negotiable—comfort comes first. In North Carolina, all costumes need options: one for warm t-shirt weather and one for cold, coat weather. Because here, there’s just no way to know what kind of Halloween we’ll get.

We also start trick-or-treating really early, well before it gets dark. Dark can be too overwhelming—scary, crowded, and hard for my kids to navigate. By heading out early, we’re often the only ones on the street, and people are usually friendlier, chattier, and more understanding at that point in the night.

Last year, one of my kids said some rather cheeky (okay, slightly rude) things while trick-or-treating like “smell my feet,” “I don’t like your candy,” and even “see ya later, sucker!” I decided to roll with it, trusting in the trickster spirit of Halloween to create understanding adults. This year, we’ve been able to have some conversations about how to “trick” people in fun ways that don’t hurt anyone’s feelings. A year is a long time, and a dropped demand one year doesn’t mean it’s dropped forever.

As for candy, I’ve already accepted that at least two of my three kids will be living off of it for the next few days. It happens every year, and you know what? It’s okay. I won’t shame them, and I won’t shame myself for it either. For our family, it doesn’t pose a major health risk, so I can let it go. Candy eventually loses its luster, or it disappears one way or another, and we go back to whatever our normal eating habits are.

I’ve also learned to downshift my expectations in the days before and after Halloween. Homework might not get done, sports practices might get skipped, bathing and changing clothes may fall to the wayside. The usual “speak nicely to your mother” rule might be a little harder to enforce. And that’s okay, too.

What I’ve realized is that dropping these demands is an investment in my kids’ nervous system reservoirs. When I give them the space to be themselves, in all their Halloween chaos, I’m building trust and connection. These moments of grace help us move through the holiday season without meltdowns and stress, keeping the focus on what really matters: being together and enjoying each other, however messy that might look.

So this year, I’m embracing the mess. And I invite you to do the same.