We have only one formal dinner party a year at my house, but it’s a doozy.

The guest list includes soldiers in uniform, lovers of the paranormal, vagabonds and assorted ne’er-do-wells. I stop counting when the list passes 40 souls.

We feast on simmering pots of peppered stews and exchange gifts and sweet candies in a ritual that repeats every year on the same day. Some of our guests eat cake with their fingers until the icing smears across their cheeks like neon-colored war paint.

This is what happens when you have a child born on Halloween.

Our older son, who turned 8 years old on Oct. 31, has his birthday party every year on Halloween night. Many of his friends have been coming to our house every Halloween since they were toddlers. They think trick-or-treating in our neighborhood is a party game.

This year we had as guests a battalion of camo-clad Army men, pirates bearing swords, Harry Potters in round glasses, a Blue Power Ranger and a Denver Broncos football player, among others.

Our 3-year-old son came dressed as a green dragon. (He had the forethought to be born the last week of October, too, so he could piggyback on our late-fall carnival.)

My older son has such an oversize view of his birthday that he couldn’t believe he actually had a soccer game scheduled last Saturday.

“Don’t they know it’s Halloween?” he lamented.

In many ways, Halloween night is the highlight of our year.

During the revelry this year, I looked over at my wife, who was smiling ear-to-ear as she maneuvered like a broken-field runner through rooms teeming with children and their parents.

In the 48 hours before the party she had blown leaves (my son wanted a big pile for backyard play), carved pumpkins, cooked chili, deep-cleaned the house, arranged for a huge tent to be pitched in the driveway (in case it rained) and managed the million other details that go into a shindig like this. Two nights earlier she had dragged herself to bed at 4 a.m. after pulling an all-nighter on party preparation.

For my part, I groused through the party planning; helping occasionally but more often just getting in the way. My wife merely added an item to her to-do list: “Cheer up grumpy husband.”

Watching the boys giggle and play on Halloween night, I congratulated myself for having the good sense to marry a farm girl who was born to be a mommy. Fifteen years ago Wednesday, 11-11-1994, a blind date became the first chapter in our family’s history.

My only gift is gratefulness. After the boys went to bed on Halloween night, I hugged my beautiful wife in our kitchen, and I realized that, because of her, my heart is completely full.