It’s here, somewhere. Hidden, but findable. It might be in the cold storage, or up in the cupboard with the baking stuff. It might be in Sean’s closet, behind the sweaters. Maybe in the linen closet. That’s a good one.
I don’t want to look, because it shouldn’t even be here. What was I thinking? I know better than to buy Halloween candy ahead of time, let alone almost two weeks before the big day. But when chocolatey treats are dangled in front of me, my defenses often crumble and I go on autopilot. In this case, it was a sale on my fave Halloween mix (the one with M&Ms, Snickers, Mars and Twix — if only Reese’s peanut-butter cups could be included). Pardon my drool. A box of 100 (100!) on sale for 10 dollars. How could I resist? Of course, I could not.
My friend texted me while I was at the store. I told her, with giddy enthusiasm, what I was doing. “DON’T DO IT!!!!” she replied (yes, in caps with lots of exclamation points). It was like I was cheating on my husband and no voice of reason could convince me it wasn’t a good idea. Worse still is that they were sold out of said candy, and I actually complained to the manager (because I hate when stores are sold out of a big sale item two hours after they open). It took some glaring and a raised voice, but she agreed to give me two 50-packs for the same price. Yes, I did it all for chocolate, my friends. It’s important to stand up for what really matters.
The remorse over my actions was swift and severe. What was wrong with me? What had I done? Clearly the universe had been pushing me away, but I was like a moth to the flame. We got home and Avery asked if she could have one. Just one. Could she? Could I? I had a moment of strength and said no, because I knew that if that box was unsealed, it was game over. And I’ve been trying to be so good. I really have.
I managed to get through the day, but I think it was mostly because I didn’t want to share with Avery. Thankfully, my chocolate-resistant husband arrived home in time to put the boxes somewhere secret. He knows my weakness, saw the yearning in my eyes. Sadly, I’m pretty sure I know his hiding spots and I still have nine days left.
Next year, I’ll make sure we stick to the old plan: Sean picks up Halloween candy sometime without my knowledge, and keeps it somewhere out of sight (like the trunk of the car. And yes, I’ve checked there). Or we buy chips. You’d be proud of my ability to stare down a bag of chips.
I do allow myself treats on Halloween. I do dip into the kids’ stashes solely out of parental duty to protect the health of their teeth and their bodies. Strangely, the last two years, Anna has been far more interested in shelling out candy to trick-or-treaters than collecting it (whose daughter is this?). Avery followed suit last year, so we didn’t end up with much, which was very helpful. And once the chocolate is gone, I’m not terribly tempted by the rest of it, and can let them have a few pieces of their loot each day for a week or so. I skim out the stuff they won’t notice and put it away to use at other random times, and soon enough, it’s all a sweet memory.
I don’t anticipate that you are at the chocoholic level that I am, but do you have trouble staying out of your kids’ Halloween loot? How do you handle the post-Halloween candy management with your kids?
Photo by Rochelle, Just Rochelle via Flickr.
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