For two years now, Grandma H. has taken the kids and my niece to the Lebanon Farmer’s Market on Easter weekend. She lets them pick out whatever they want. Anything. Can you imagine? Let me tell you, I grew up with this woman, and she never set me loose in a candy shop with a blank check, so I’m always a little pouty. . .until she buys me my own bag of Milk Chocolate Wilbur Buds. Then I just push down the grumps and go to my Chocolate Happy Place.
We call it the Candy Field Trip.
The kids don’t get to take this Easter bounty home with them. No, Grandma takes it home with her and tortures them for three days, then she presents it to them on Easter Sunday. Last year I weighed the kids’ Candy Loot: 3 pounds.
Each.
Now, I know some of you out there are rolling your eyes, calculating my yearly dental bill and predicting the years of Weight Watcher’s my children are going to need to endure in order to clean the sugar out of their future bloodstreams. But let me tell you, they don’t eat it all in one sitting. I will pack some in their lunches, and some will be after-school snacks and some will be dessert and some Dave and I will sneak out when they are looking the other way. It will last them for months. Or at least until the Memorial Day parade when they refill their candy bags with the Smarties the firetrucks throw at them.
When you’re a kid you’re bossed around a lot: your meals are decided for you; your bedtime and bathtime and homework time are all regimented; asparagus is a requirement, not a choice; and sometimes you have to wear stupid, itchy clothes because they look handsome and you HATE that.
But kids get to have candy. It’s one of their few comforts, something to call their own, even if they’re not allowed to indulge whenever, wherever.
Now please excuse me. The Wilbur Buds are calling my name.
1 comment:
This looks like the best day ever! So many options!! Grandma's they are the best :)
Happy Easter!
Wendy
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