Halloween was one of my favorite holidays when I was a child. The costumes, candy, pumpkins, and welcoming porch lights left me feeling happy — even safe — after an evening of trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. Young kids walked in clumps from door to door dressed as hobos, clowns, cowboys, cats, dogs, superheroes, and royalty, while mothers followed pushing the baby in a stroller, a mustache cleverly drawn on the baby’s face with eyebrow pencil.

As an adult, however, Halloween is now my least favorite holiday. Generally speaking, costume parties are fun and I enjoy a little candy…anytime of year. But I struggle with the increased intensity in scary costumes and graphic haunted house attractions.

A vampire with frankly-fake white teeth and red food-coloring for blood on his face, rising slowly from an old box as thrill-seekers watched from behind the velvet rope before they moved on to the werewolf scene, used to be a little spooky. I know. The speed limit was once 55 mph, too.

But with budgets rivaling those of some major motion pictures, affording event promoters access to professional make-up artists, actors, special effects, and huge venues that can take the better part of an hour to navigate, I have to ask, are some of these Halloween attractions too much? A desensitized population of both adults and kids – i.e., growing demand for fresh, creepy subject matter – certainly drives the chilling creativity.

Admittedly, I’ve never enjoyed the horror genre in books or films, but I have plenty of friends who do.

I’m not judging lovers of content I find disturbing. My problem is the assumption that we’re all craving more extreme themes and visuals. When I take my kids to a grocery store and there are frightening and graphic seasonal displays near the graham crackers because Halloween is two months away, I don’t like it.

Some people want cleavage and six-pack abs covered on magazines in the checkout line. I want the bloody, zombie baby gorily eating his own foot, outta there. What happened to the green-faced witch with warts on her nose and bushy, angry eyebrows? I think that’s enough, especially when the potential audience might be a 5-year-old (or 46-year-old) who’s prone to nightmares.

As a person with a vivid imagination, capable of thinking bizarre thoughts and creating unsettling scenes in my own head, I choose not to watch scary movies or creepy television shows. Advertising, trailers, and a (sometimes accurate) rating system allow me to make informed choices.

When I enter a store — grocery, department, drug, or super – it would be nice to not have to worry about what life-sized, dismembered, “boo” “funny” is waiting around the corner when all I need are plastic sandwich bags and aluminum foil.

I have two teenage sons who don’t require G-rated Halloween decorations in public places anymore. But there was a time when they were terrified by some of the startling props in what should have been innocuous places. Those teenage boys have a sensitive younger brother, though. This is a rough time of year to run errands with him in tow.

And as far as the haunted house attractions go, a rating system would be helpful. I can’t help but wonder if some of the violent scenes aren’t pushing an R-rating. As a parent it’s difficult to know if I’m sending my kid to a Disney-like Haunted Mansion (still frightening for some children), or paying for them to view images straight out of “The Exorcist.”

Back to navigating day-to-day activity, though…

I’m not an advocate of ambushing people with overly provocative material while they’re selecting a pack of gum. The same desensitization issue exists in both arenas of sex and violence. But, I’m not aware of cleavage giving a child a nightmare; a zombie baby just might.

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Chrisy Ross is the author of To Mormons, with Love: A Little Something from the New Girl in Utah. She lives in Alpine with her husband and three sons, and blogs at ChrisyRoss.com.