“Whatever you do, don’t move the shirt on the ironing board. The paint needs to dry.” These were my parting instructions to my husband as my daughter and I left for the weekend. Homecoming Week was starting, and outfits in varying stages of completion were strewn throughout the house.

“Don’t worry. I’ve lived through enough Homecoming weeks, Halloweens and Winter Carnivals to know you don’t mess with an in-progress costume,” Bill replied.

At last, confirmation that he’s listened to something during our 29 years of marriage. Or while he isn’t a participant in the process, at least he’s aware of the clutter that costuming creates.

Whenever there was a reason to dress up, I totally embraced it. If I came across a potential costume piece at a yard sale, I’d buy it. My classroom and my closet always had a prop trunk. That might explain why Halloween has always been a favorite holiday. It’s not the candy or the spooky tales; it’s the ability to be something else for a few hours and the joy of preparing for the day. Unlike acting, it doesn’t take talent, just a little costume magic.

When it came to Halloween outfits, each of the kids had their own genre: Chloe liked characters like Pippi Longstocking, Annie Oakley and Nanny McPhee. Quin’s piece de resistance was a life-sized baseball card, featuring himself. Phoebe leaned to the unusual: A headless person with her head in a jar or a Whack-A-Mole game. For weeks before the big day, we (well, mostly me) would be scouring thrift stores, dyeing, painting and constructing. The preparation was greater than any holiday, including Christmas, but with far less pressure.

My favorite Halloween memory, however, isn’t linked to the best or most elaborate costume. Chloe, our oldest, was about four. We lived fifteen miles out of town. She had made the rounds at friends and businesses in the afternoon, now she was anxiously waiting for costumed kids to come to our door.

She waited and waited. In the past, a few neighbors had stopped, but they were older now. She waited and waited, refusing to go to bed until someone came. She waited and waited, insistent that she would answer the door and hand out candy like she’d seen others do.

Bill and I were torn. Yes, it was a stage when we could weather a tantrum and just put Chloe to bed. That’s what our parents would have done. But the day had been so much fun, and we didn’t want it to end on a sour note. Plus, we were town kids — we understood the thrill of handing out candy.

Finally, I said, “I’m going to get ready for bed,” as I went down the hall to my room. I figured if I went to sleep, maybe Chloe would too. As I reached for my pajamas I saw a scarf hanging there. That thin cloth launched an idea. Digging into the back of my closet and reaching into a prop trunk, I found what I needed.

Scarf, antique velvet smoking jacket, puffy shirt, fake mustache and dress boots — instant pirate. I could be a trick-or-treater. But how to get to the door? Chloe had set up camp, blocking both exits.

With no doors available, I looked to the only other means of egress. So, in full buccaneer attire, completely lacking grace, I climbed out the window. Quietly I walked the length of the house and knocked on the front door.

“Trick or treat? You young scallywag, why are you still awake?” I said in my best low pirate voice as Chloe answered the door.

Wide-eyed, but grinning ear to ear, she offered up the bowl of candy.

Bill, over his initial surprise, didn’t make eye contact. We both knew that this tenuous masquerade needed to be quick and laughter-free.

The door shut. I walked back down the steps. After a few failed tries, and the grateful acknowledgment that no one would witness me, I unceremoniously dropped back through the bedroom window. Quickly, I changed into pajamas and rejoined the family.

“You missed it. We had a pirate come to the door,” Chloe announced.

“And I gave him candy.”

“Great!” was all I said.

“Can I go to bed now? I’m tired.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

But there wasn’t really a plan, just a little serendipity, and a last-minute costume.

So, remember this piece of pirate wisdom: Keeping a costume in your closet be the mark of a resourceful parent, then you’re ready to face any obstacle a wee matey throws your way.