You get to eat your kid’s Halloween candy. As you might know from reading this blog, Monkey Man is allergic to peanuts (and pecans and shellfish, but that’s irrelevant to this post). We’ve learned to live with it and our family and closest friends are very aware of this potentially life-threatening allergy. We have Epi-pens in our house, in my purse, at his school, and at each of the grandparents’ homes. Family and friends are label-conscious and keep their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches far away. (Well, most of them do. But that’s another post on people who just don’t get it or don’t care).
But when Halloween rolls around, Hubby and I get to reap the harvest of generous neighbors! When Monkey Man’s plastic pumpkin is half-filled with Snickers, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Peanut M&M’s, Hubby and I become 5 year-old children drooling over the booty our little goblin has collected for us!
“Oh, I’m so sorry Monkey Man, but you can’t have THIS, or THIS, or THIS because, sniff, sniff, it has peanuts in it,” I say feigning sadness, while sneaking a glance at Hubby that says, “Oh, yeah. Score." But guess what Mommy’s bringing to work for a little afternoon pick-me-up? Those peanut M&M’s will be perfect at 1:00 when I’m about to head outside for recess duty, aka Tattle Deflection Duty/Bullying Prevention Duty. And this Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? That will be waiting for me at 3:20 when I walk out to my car for a little more peanut buttery goodness that’s not allowed to be eaten in my own home. MY OWN HOME! It pains me to no longer eat a Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich with a big, cold glass of milk. But these are the sacrifices we must make. And my retribution is to thieve from my child.