There are three times a year in which in we buy sweets and have them around the house in abundance: Easter, Halloween and Christmas. For the most part, my family doesn't really eat that many sweets so the Easter candy lasts us till Halloween and the Halloween candy lasts till Christmas. But for some reason, the Christmas candy never seems to last that long.
I don't know if it's the jolly red, green and gold wrappers or the difference in the types of candy we buy, but whatever it is it always throws my diabetic mother-in-law into a feeding frenzy. I kid you not when I say that I have gone to the store three times already to replenish the candy supply. And each time it has been on her dime. I know what you're thinking. Why do you continue to buy the candy if she is just going to keep eating it?
Well, I guess after her 72 years on this planet we somehow keep expecting her to come up with some sense of restraint. I know, fool me once and all that. Clearly after living with the woman for ten years I have proved that I am the fool. Hand over the dunce cap.
The truth is, we do say no. And we give her a hard time about her chocoholism, but there is no support group for it. No 12 steps. And have you ever lived with a woman going through chocolate withdrawals? It isn't pretty. I think it is somehow easier to give in than to stand up to her. So we buy more Hershey's kisses, York Peppermint Patties and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
On my third trip to the store to feed her habit, she asked me if I thought maybe this stash might last till Santa's midnight run. I laughed and said there was no way. I thought it was a joke. Turns out she was serious. And turns out I was right.
Here I am, three days till Christmas, and I have a candy tin full of exactly nine Hershey kisses. Guess I'm going shopping again.
Ho Ho Ho
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