So it must be my kids, then, you think. Wrong again. For sure they've had more candy this week than normal, but nothing too crazy. And the great thing is, the Hershey's chocolate bars I have in a big glass bowl Right. In. The. Middle. Of. The. Room--tempting us all--has not been ransacked. The girls have asked only once for candy. So far, I have not discovered any wayward wrappers. Perhaps, they will grow up to be the kind of person that can have one piece of candy or one cookie and feel completely satisfied. I wish that for them. I really do.
And, no, it's not even my husband. He is one of those strange creatures born without a sweet tooth. I both admire and loathe him because of it.
Then, who? Who suffered from the Halloween overdose?
Yeah, there she is again. Zoe, our loving greybador retriever, has been such a good dog for most of her life (her only objectional behavior so far has been greeting her human friends with a kiss on the mouth, even when standing). She has never had a food fetish until lately: stealing food off the counter, unleashing the contents of the garbage all over the house. Sometimes we don't even fault her for that, especially since having children and we have days when she misses a meal. But today was just inexcusable, especially because I gave her an hour walk this morning followed by breakfast.
When the girls and I got home this afternoon the entire contents of their halloween treat bags from school had been stolen from the counter top and ripped apart. There was a trail of terror running through the house: candy wrappers, chewed up pencils, partially eaten Tootsie pops, half-spilled Pixie sticks, balls of orange homemade play doh (evidently this, she felt, was inedible), ruined Halloween straws. She demolished it all. My daughters were hysterical. Zoe just sat by the back door, waiting for me to let her out. She knew she was in trouble. If I weren't so mad at her I'd be worried about her. Right now she is staring at me with doe eyes from the other side of the sliding glass door. I'm sure she has a stomach ache. I'm sure she feels miserable. Lord knows I've been there. Maybe next year she can practice moderation with me.
How's moderation going in your house?