Wordless Wednesday: Stranger in a Strange Land

Just take the Lactaid and move on.

October is coming.

I know, I can hear you. But it's barely September! It isn't even officially Labor Day yet! And I understand your reticence to usher in fall.

But. 

October means crunchy leaves. October means warm sprinkle rain. October is the smell of wet asphalt, hot from a reluctant summer. It's cooler days, and a light sweater or two. It's Halloween. 

I love Halloween. 

As a kid, I loved getting dressed up and filling my pillowcase with candy until the seams stretched and groaned under the weight of hundreds of tiny, individually wrapped morsels. After going to all the houses I could, (minus the one that required you to march through a haunted house section before they'd give you candy, because those people were sadists and who wants to go through a haunted house anyway? They're stupid and not even scary and I'm not scared, I just heard they give out Almond Joy and no one likes coconut, so I'm just going to stand over here, no you go ahead, I've got a thread on my costume that needs looking at.) 

I would sit on the living room floor and pour out my bag. I'd sit there in pre-diabetic glee, staring at all the shiny wrappers, calculating which one would be the first, wondering if this would be the year I got the razor in my candy. Then my parents would bring the hammer down. My candy got split into two. One bowl I had access to, and the other was put away for "when the first bowl was finished". I could have one piece of candy a day. That's it. By the time I finished my first bowl of candy, I had forgotten about the second bowl and it was usually almost Easter, so who cares about stale Necco wafers when you've got Cadbury Creme eggs coming your way?

It was years before I realized my parents were thieves. Candy eating, chocolate stealing, smarties snacking magpies. There was never a second bowl for safekeeping. They counted on my childish forgetfulness. Oh my poor naive child-self. I trusted them to watch my candy for me. And candy trust is the most sacred. Candy is child gold. And of course, the idea was genius. 

You don't have to share these Reese's brownies with anyone. You can make them and keep them in one container. You can eat them all in one day, because you're an adult. Just make sure you have a big glass of milk. And, maybe share some with your parents. After all, your mom made that costume and they had to endure that tantrum you threw over the wrong color Pippi Longstocking shoes. They deserve a brownie or two.