I was very little, fewer than five years old. My middle brother was under two, just old enough to walk with a hand but still mostly carried. Mom and Dad decided we'd brave the slightly icy streets for a brief trick-or-treat walk around the neighborhood.
On our way to the first house, Mom slipped on a short flight of stone steps and cracked her ankle. Somehow, we all managed to hobble home, where Mom spent the next week with her legs elevated. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I had seen my mother in bed in the daytime.