The chill in the air. The crunch on the ground. You know what's coming.

Little bodies tumbling out of car doors dressed as ghosties and goblins and cartoon characters, buckets and bags in hand. They're coming for your porch. They're coming for your candy.

And some among them won't be so little.

Maybe they'll be extra tall for their age. Or maybe they'll be older than you expected.

Maybe they'll have some scraggle starting to sprout on their chins or pimples extending across their faces.

Perhaps their voices will crack as they extend their arms and issue a trick or treat.

Perhaps they'll have driven themselves or come with an entourage of similarly acne-plagued, scraggly pals.

They'll be bigger than the sort you're used to. But they're still kids.

There's no height requirement on childhood, no “too tall to enjoy this amusement.”

There's no age limit on fun.

I remember all too well when I hung up my dress up days, too afraid to be seen as “childish” by my classmates, too self conscious to enjoy even just one day of carefree innocence. I was too young then to be so old.

Every teenager donning a cape or mask or face paint this week deserves another day of being a kid. Every teenager politely knocking on a door and proffering a treat bag deserves a friendly hello and a candy bar in return.

They're not childish. They're children.

This Halloween the real treat is letting them act like it.