Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Steamboat Springs After an early round of trick-or-treating, my dear sweet 10-year-old son calmly announced:
"I'm getting a restraining order against you. I want you to stay away from my candy this year."
He wasn't smiling as he said this. In fact, he looked down right serious as he continued:
"100 feet. I want you to stay 100 feet away from my candy."
Stunned, surprised and suppressing a giggle, I asked how he planned to carry out his threat.
"I'll go to the Sheriff's Office and get one."
"Really? On your bike? Besides, I don't think they give restraining orders for chocolate. If they did, it wouldn't be so hard to diet."
"I can try."
"You think I'll trick you to get your treats? What kind of mother would do such a thing?" (These are the times that I wish a little halo would magically appear over my head.)
"You did last year."
"What a pumpkin-headed thing to say! Even if I did, it was only to save you a trip to the dentist. Besides, I'm innocent until proven guilty. Or I confess. You have no evidence I took a candy bar."
It's amazing what selective memories kids have. If I ask him to find his school backpack, he'll have no idea where he put it. But he seems to have instant recall for any minor transgression I have committed. In his mind, it is crystal clear that 365 days ago in a moment of weakness or temporary insanity, I may (innocent until proven guilty or I confess) have reached my hand into his overflowing Halloween stash and extracted one little candy bar. He also can remember a day when he had to do chores, or that six months ago I refused to let him have a sleepover at a friend's house. However, he conveniently forgets the hundreds of dollars spent on lacrosse and ski equipment, not to mention Legos or his cell phone. Surely if he remembered even one of these things he'd agree I'm entitled to some candy.
I'll be the first to admit I am a card-carrying chocoholic. There are soccer moms and hockey moms, but I'm the ultimate chocolate mom, available on all holidays, especially Halloween and Easter. And when it comes to Reese's peanut butter cups, there's not much I won't do to get one. Reese's has been my favorite candy bar for more than 30 years - there on my thighs during good times and bad.
I also will admit that I am a wee bit over-involved with the downtown trick-or-treating, silently groaning when he gets a tootsie roll (sticks to my teeth), lollipop (ugh) or a Milk Dud (there's a reason Dud is part of its name). I am understandably overjoyed when the familiar orange wrapper of a Reese's plops into his plastic pumpkin bucket. I may have suggested once or twice that he make a second pass by the fire truck since the firemen usually hand out Reese's, but if the truth be told, maybe I suggested it a dozen times. With all of the costumes, commotion and candy who can remember?
On the other hand, maybe this restraining order idea has merit. Forget Weight Watchers, stomach stapling and fasting. Maybe if I was busted for my chocolate consumption and thrown into the slammer I could survive 24 hours without chocolate.
Hmmmmm ... The Long Arm of the Law Diet Centers.
But first, they'll have to find the empty candy wrapper.