Holidays Dominated by Candy These Days

With Easter having just come and gone, there’s something about holidays I don’t really understand. Why do most of them involve candy? Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day and Halloween are prime examples. For whatever reason people feel led to give each other a bunch of candy on those occasions. Candy canes for Christmas, crème filled eggs for Easter, chocolate on Valentine’s Day, and every imaginable sugar sweet known to mankind on Halloween. It’s like we can’t figure out what we should give each other so we always fall back into the candy safety net. Misunderstand me not. I’m not anti-candy. I enjoy a good Reese’s every once in a while myself, but I just can’t figure out why candy dominates most holidays. And it’s getting worse. Nowadays my kids think they are owed a dessert after every meal. Like clockwork each night they ask Mom the same thing- “What’s for dessert?” And they won’t even count yogurt as a treat. Too healthy to be a dessert, they claim. And the one Stroupe kid who Mom still packs a lunch for requests a sweet snack every day. And he gets it. (He’s a good kid and doesn’t ask for a whole lot). This has led to an interesting development in our home. All about being a fine mother, Mom has a stash of candy she keeps for the youngest Stroupe’s daily lunchbox. The challenge is keeping the other Stroupes from invading the secret supply. Specifically there is one raider in our home who reigns supreme. He’s responsible for approximately 90% of all candy swiping incidents. No, it is not me. I won’t mention names but he is the oldest child and he’s the tallest human being in our house so you can’t hide things above eye level like we used to when he was in elementary school. This child of mine can sniff out sweets with the best of them. I think he could be the dog in a K-9 unit someday if sugar ever becomes illegal. Mom has attempted to hide her stash in cabinets with the blender, the toaster, the ice cream maker, the cooking pots, and the dinner plates. She’s tried the bedroom closet shelves and the bathroom linen closet without success. All she finds later is empty wrappers. (Yes, he leaves the wrappers as evidence, like he’s proud of it or something.) She recently shoved an empty box of former Cadbury eggs in front of me and announced, “He’s done it again.” I have an idea we haven’t tried yet but we may consider. Stick a couple of bags of M and M’s in the pouches of his English notebook and see how long they last. I’d give them a fighting chance in there. At any rate, sweets never remotely approach their expiration dates in our house. So when my youngest two boys returned home from a trip with their grandparents recently, I was pleased but anxious when they presented me with a box of creamy delicious Cow Tales to enjoy at my leisure. I decided on a new strategy. I left them in plain view on the desk where my laptop rests. Then I posted a little sign on the box that reads, “Touch these and I’ll write about you in the paper.” So far, so good.

Youngest Son Duped Long Enough

Don’t read this column if you are ten years or younger. You have been fairly warned. This column contains confidential information you may not want to be exposed to. So stop reading if you’re hung up on the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and/or Santa Claus. My three boys have each at different times in their lives come to terms with the reality or unreality of the aforementioned characters. The youngest Stroupe, now ten years old, still doesn’t want to fully admit that he’s reached some obvious conclusions. The Stroupes just finished celebrating the Easter holiday season as usual. We have consistently celebrated the “secular” aspects of it over the years while attempting to emphasize the importance of the spiritual aspects. This typically meant that I had to get up around six in the morning on Easter before Sunrise service and hide colored eggs in nooks and crannies throughout our yard. I know you’re supposed to enjoy and soak in all these aspects of this stage of parenthood, but I never really liked the whole hide the eggs deal. It’s hard to come up with new hiding places each year. And invariably there’s one rebel egg nobody can find and I can’t remember where I hid it. I usually find it with the lawn mower later. Fortunately for me, this year my middle son decided he wanted to get up and do the hiding. “Have at it,” said his parents. And he did. His little brother was well aware he’d been duped but didn’t seem to mind. A few months back (sometime last fall) my youngest chap made a confession to me while we were riding along in my truck. His exact words were, “Dad, I know the Easter Bunny is fake, and I know the Tooth Fairy is fake, but I’m still 50/50 on Santa. The problem is, I’ve puzzled it all out and it just doesn’t add up.” Then Christmas came along and all of a sudden he was a die-hard believer again. But deep down he knew I knew he knew. The end was near. Riding along in our family car on Easter Sunday, it all came crashing down. With the whole family present, the older brothers finally got the youngest to admit he was wise to the whole Santa, Bunny, and Tooth Fairy deal. The oldest son claimed he realized the Tooth Fairy was a sham when he only got one dollar under his pillow and the rich kid at school got a five dollar bill. How that trade teeth for money bit got started I don’t know but I’ve never quite understood it. One of our neighbor kids won’t sleep in the room with his brother when the brother loses a tooth. He says he doesn’t want somebody sneaking in and out of his room at night while he’s asleep. I’m with the kid on that one. My oldest son remembers me telling him about the Bunny by holding up one of his little brothers’ folded up dirty diapers around Easter time and saying, “Here’s your cottontail and the present’s inside.” (I don’t remember that incident but everyone else seems to.) Anyway, the point is that the jig’s up now. All good things must come to an end. It was fun while it lasted. Sort of.