Monday, October 19, 2009

The Candy Corn Caper

I don't buy candy corn because I would eat it all in one sitting.

That's a lie. I should have said that I buy candy corn and eat it all in one sitting, so I try to buy small bags.

But that would be a lie, too, because we all know the more candy corn the better, so I buy great big bags of it. I love the candy corn pumpkins, too, and bats, and witch heads, and, well, pretty much anything candy corn-like. I have no control over myself when it comes to candy corn, and I eat it until my stomach hurts and begin to drool sugar. I just can't stop myself.

On Saturday, Keaton went with me to the grocery store. We were having a fine time shopping, and I carefully monitored the extra things he requested to keep us within our budget for the trip. He got to pick which kind of yogurt and which bunch of bananas he wanted, and he got fruit gushers and a large bunch of grapes, and he was very happy because nothing makes him happier than getting his way.

Then he spotted the candy corn. "Mom, can we have some candy corn for Halloween?!" he squealed.

"We'll see," I told him, mentally calculating how many non-list items we'd already gotten and remembering my candy corn addiction. I honestly thought he would just forget about it, but the folks at HEB made sure that didn't happen because there was candy corn at every turn. Finally I gave in, and we bought one small bag of store-brand candy corn. It didn't break my budget, and I figured it probably wouldn't be as good as the name brand crack. I mean candy corn.

I lasted about two hours before I opened the package. I thought I'd just have one handful and that would do it -- fix me up for a little while. But I couldn't help myself. I kept going back for more and more. I found myself getting just enough to hide in my fist so that Keaton wouldn't see that I was eating it and want some, too. After all, we bought a small bag.

I'm not proud. Addiction is a difficult thing.

Just before bedtime, I was sitting at the computer working on an eHow article with a fist-sized pile of candy corn in front of me on the desk where I could eat them in thirds while I worked. (Everyone knows the best way to eat candy corn is one color at a time.) In walked Keaton just as I popped the yellow end of one of the corns into my mouth.

"What are you eating?" he asked.


"Mom! What is it?" he insisted. Then he noticed the three remaining corns on the table. "Mom! These are for Halloween! When did you open them?"

"Earlier," I said, beginning to feel ashamed.

Keaton took the three remaining candy corns, popped them in his mouth, and scolded me through the sugar, "No more until Halloween. Do you understand?"

I just nodded in defeat.

But I couldn't help myself. On Sunday after church I went for my usual fist-sized hit, and the little rat busted me again! This time he didn't yell, however. This time he just shook his head, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Do you know what 'no more' means?"

It looks like I'm going to have to finish off this bag and get him a new one before Halloween. There are only about six left anyway.

Clearly I do not know what "no more" means. Yes, addiction is a difficult thing.


E-Wok said...

My husband is also addicted to candy corn.

Carol said...

Personally, I hate it when my words come back to haunt me. I ask...Why is it that kids make you think they are not listening to you until YOU do something wrong. Then it's BAM!!! The very words you have used on them come back and slap you silly and usually in the same tone. I ask, how is this fair. I know, I know, mom said, "life ain't fair." See it's all vicious circle.

Lisa said...

so funny....but it made me want some candy corn now.

Anonymous said...

mmmm...candy corn