My kids talked a big game on Halloween.
They were determined to get candy.
Lots of candy.
Piles of candy.
Pounds and pounds of candy.
"CANDY!!!!" they yelled many times in the days leading up to Halloween.
"MORE CANDY!!!!" they yelled, even after they went to a Halloween event, and got only a small amount.
They were not satisfied.
Two chocolate bars and a Skittles?
"WE WANT MORE!!!" they said.
Were they greedy about it?
They were greedy, little, candy monsters.
But they are kids. Kids on Halloween.
It kind of goes with the territory.
In fact, if they had looked at me and said, "Why no thank you, dear mother. We would not like any more candy. We are perfectly satisfied with our humble little pile of chocolate pieces, Mother dear. That will be enough for our little tummies, what with not wanting to spoil our healthy meal of grilled chicken and asparagus. In fact, if you could please put more asparagus on our plates, that would be better than any candy you could send our way. After all, we are not interested in rotting our teeth clear out of our heads, therefore causing you and Father dear to have to spend so much in dental bills that our dentist can buy a new Lamborghini. No, Mother dear. That will be enough," I would have thought something was wrong.
Not in my house.
Such a conversation would be about ten different kinds of ridiculous.
Instead, my shorties donned their costumes, grabbed their pillowcases with much gusto, and went on a mission.
A candy hunting mission.
They were proud to report that it was a success.
Although, I don't know if I would use the word, "success" when describing their candy haul.
Actually, I had no words.
To date, we have never had such a candy haul in our home. In past years, we have always been able to fit our candy into two large bowls. Being slightly anal retentive and OCD when it comes to my candy, I would divide into chocolate candy, and "other", which are lollipops, Skittles, Smarties, Starburst, Tootsie Rolls, and etcetera.
This year? It took me a half hour to sort through all the candy and put it into bowls.
A HALF HOUR.
TO DIVIDE CANDY.
Then, I told the shorties that they would have to donate a pound and a half of their candy to the troops. (Thank you, Noodles and Company candy swap on November 6!)
You would have thought that I asked them to chop off their left arms.
"A POUND AND A HALF, MOM?!?! A POUND AND A HALF?!?!"
No, shorties. I did not stutter. I said a pound and a half, and I meant a pound and a half.
Now fork over the candy. It's for the troops.
"Listen up," I said. "This is no time to be selfish. You could give away half of this candy and still have bowls and bowls of it. Also? Without the troops you would not even have the freedom to roam our streets safely to beg for candy."
What's parenting without throwing in a little guilt once in awhile?
They had nothing more to say, and went to work digging through the bowls looking for candy for the troops. I pulled out our food scale and they measure out EXACTLY 1-1/2 lbs. each.
My kids...ahem...generously them every single Almond Joy in the bowls, which was about 25 in all.
Sorry troops. God Bless the USA. Thanks for all you do to protect our freedoms.
But everybody knows Almond Joys are disgusting.
I was happy to report that the shorties also gave them piles of coveted candy as well.
And this mom gave them every single Pixie Stick in the pile.
Really, Pixie Sticks? I'm a fun mom and all, but really? Pure sugar poured into paper tubes?
I have my limits.
Foolishly, I thought that donating 6 pounds of candy (1-1/2 lbs. from my four kids) would cull the pile greatly.
Unfortunately, it did not.
This is the finished product. (The Ziploc bags are the candy to be donated.)
The word, "redonkulous" comes to mind.
Even though it's a fake word.
Because I have no words.
My children should not be surprised if they find Halloween candy in their Easter baskets next year.