Trick or Loot! Neurodivergent Kids and Halloween Sensory Overload

This post is a funny look at Halloween with neurodivergent kids – sensory overload, unexpected mishaps, and joy in every chaotic moment.

It was a crisp Halloween evening. The kids looked fantastic as tiny old people – one in a lavender sweater coat (hand-knit by their actual grandma), the other with bushy eyebrows and a cane. I had gone over all the steps: what to do, what to say, how many candies to take.

I felt prepared. They seemed prepared.

But five minutes into trick-or-treating…

We barged into a stranger’s house, and we weren't searching for candy...

Old Granny and Old Man Preparing for Trick-Or-Treating (Or Preparing for Thieving?)

Curiosity, Chaos, Sensory Overload, and Neurodivergent Kid Brains on Halloween

One of the many things I love about my neurodivergent kids is their intense curiosity. They want to explore. They want to see, smell, touch, hear – and occasionally taste – their surroundings.

We had talked about what to expect with trick-or-treating. We’d rehearsed. We had a plan.

But the reality? Halloween is a full-blown sensory circus. Overstimulating, unpredictable, a bit chaotic, and just weird: costumes, strangers, doorbells, crowds of kids zipping around, unexpected sounds, unfamiliar smells, and the strange ritual of visiting someone’s home – just not to go inside.

Naturally, things can get confusing very quickly.

The Great Trick-Or-Treating Mix-Up (a.k.a. The Remote Control Heist)

My son as an Old Granny

My oldest kid was a little old granny: gray wig in a bun, gold glasses, clunky necklaces.

My youngest? An old man with a beret, bushy eyebrows, mustache, and a cane he didn’t actually need but insisted on using to poke things. Adorable.

Pumpkin buckets in hand, we hit the sidewalk.

We’d gone over the script:

Ring the bell. Say, “Trick-or-treat.” Take one candy. Say, “Thank you.” Move along.

Simple enough, right?

My son dressed as an Old Man

House Number One

Mild confusion.

They peered inside, took a deep sniff like they were evaluating the house’s vibes, accepted the candy, and left.

House Number Two

A friendly man opened the door. Welcoming. Chatty. Clearly not expecting to be invaded.

The kids must have taken the friendliness as an invitation.

Old Granny (actually my son) darted into the kitchen like he was on a mission. Keys. Pens. Random trinkets – straight into the pumpkin bucket.

Meanwhile, Old Man bee-lined for the coffee table.

He grabbed a TV remote with total confidence… then set his sights on the PlayStation.

And me?

I barged in after them, frantically whisper-yelling, “No, no, no, NOPE!”

The man stood frozen – wide-eyed, clutching his candy bowl like a shield.

I scrambled to intercept, plucking pens, keys, and a remote out of the buckets while apologizing at high speed.

We exited. Quickly.

Once outside, we regrouped.

Just candy. No entering houses. No taking their stuff.

The kids nodded.

The next house went better – until Old Man saw a cat.

He made a dash for it. But this time, he froze when I said, “NO!”

Old Man then offered a trade: candy for the cat. Nice try. And also progress.

Halloween Is Sensory Mayhem – And That’s Okay

Was I horrified in the moment when my kids tried to swipe all the non-candy items?

Absolutely.

But I also understood. What a confusing night!

Halloween is a full-blown sensory overload obstacle course for neurodivergent kids.

Itchy costumes made of fabrics that feel like sandpaper.

Flashing lights.

Crowds of kids in masks screaming about “full-sized candy bars” like they’re winning the lottery.

For my kids – who notice everything – it’s… a lot. (For a kid's perspective on what sensory overload sounds like to him, check out this post).

And then there are the strange, one-night-only social rules:

• Go to a stranger’s house… but don’t go inside.

• Accept candy… but don’t linger, ask 50 questions, or check out their stuff.

• Pretend to be an elderly adult... but you don't get the drive the car.

It’s no wonder they got confused.

We weren’t dealing with bad behavior. We were navigating sensory overload and logic that made total sense to them in the moment.

So yeah… accidental burglary. It happens.

And the man whose house we stormed?

He actually became a favorite neighborhood friend. We’d chat on the sidewalk about superheroes, Star Wars, 3D printers, and coding.

Although our golden retriever did once jump on him, steal his name tag, and refuse to give it back. I finally pried it out of our dog’s mouth and returned it – soaked in slobber.

He was very gracious about it.

Ongoing Progress, Smells, and Messy Houses

These days, Halloween goes more smoothly.

We prep each year. We rehearse.

We make it very clear that trick-or-treating involves candy – not cats, not keys, and definitely not electronics.

But we’re still working on social finesse.

Like the time my son rang a doorbell and – instead of “trick or treat!” – he proudly announced:

“What’s that smell? Gross!”

Or when he peeked inside someone’s home and asked:

“Why is it so messy? Don’t you know how to clean?”

We'll get this down... eventually.

Jen with Cool Wiring

P.S.: If you can relate to kids asking loudly about smells, you might be able to relate to this post on Public Stink.