Body by Chocolate

It’s the same story every year.

I bought Halloween candy too early. Again.

One year, I held off so long, I forgot. The first masked children rang the doorbell, waiting with their bags open, their peeking eyes in anticipatory glee.

I hid in my bedroom, ashamed, until they left. I did this all night.

The following year, I sent my husband out to buy candy on the eve of Halloween. He returned with an obscene amount of full-sized candy bars. “All they had left,”  he told me.

An expensive mistake.  

Since then, I buy it myself, from Costco, in advance.  I suffer the same torture every year.

I sit with the bag, day after day, while I try to work at home. They taunt me – those mini-chocolate hellions: We know you want us…..We can feel it. We see how you look at us when you pass. Come on…just a taste. You know how we make you happy….

Ah! I ask my kids to hide the bag as I remind them of the dangers of drugs; implore them to avoid menacing peers who will coax them to try it…Stay strong! I tell them.

While they’re at school, I search the house for the loot. Where the hell did they put it? I am thinking of all different ways to punish them, as I search through their closets, the basement, kitchen cabinets.

I amass 6 bags of old clothes, unused kitchen items, boots, and toys, and put them aside for the poor.

My house has never been cleaner. Where is that candy?

I find it in the basement toy chest, under a 1200-piece Lego box. 

Should have done a better job. Only took me three hours to find it.

 Last year it took me three and a half.

On Halloween, I pour the candy into our special orange bowl. (I used to have a nice basket, but it was stolen – don’t ask)

My husband looks at it. “Where’s the rest?”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He peeks into the bowl again. “I thought we bought the 250-pc bag. There isn’t even half of that here.”

I shrug, and walk away. He follows me, not to be deterred.

“Where is the candy?”

I sigh, in defeat.

“Give me a hug, and I’ll show you.”

He can’t. His arms don’t reach around me anymore.

“I see.” He says. “I’ll have a chat with the boys. We’ll work on their creative hiding skills.”

Yeah, good luck with that.