I have a theory that the ‘forbidden fruit’ is one of this universe’s most powerful things.
When I was growing up, we rarely had ice cream in the freezer. And even more rarely ice cream sandwiches. And when we did find them in the freezer, between my brother graham and I, they were gone in a skinny minute. And if ever I went to a friend’s house, and they had them, I would marvel that they would actually stay stocked. Why weren’t they expending all available energy in shoving that sweet icy deliciousness in their cake-hole? Wonders never ceased.
We had plenty of whole wheat bread. Wheat Germ. Tofu. Crap like that. Oddly, I never felt the need to binge on those.
And it didn’t hit me until my own kids were born that one of the reasons I went ape-shit (that’s a technical term, it’s not cussing.) over ice cream bars is because they were so rare. Thus was born my theory of the forbidden fruit.
I bought a big glass jar, and filled it….filled it….with Peanut M&M’s. It was so pretty and colorful. I labled the jar “Attitude Adjustments” and put it on the floor where the kids could partake with ease. Understand, this is a BIG jar. It takes about 6 large bags of M&Ms to fill it. And I have a plastic scoop in it, just in case the health department comes. You can never be too careful.
At first, those M&M’s disappeared quickly. Troy was one of the largest culprits. But eventually, the jar took longer and longer to empty. And now, if you ask the kids if they want an M&M, most likely they’ll go tell you to pound sand. (And then they get a time out.) Seriously, they are no longer enamored with them. Why? They are not forbidden.
I even try to switch it up a little, to further this experiment. I color coordinate for the holidays. But they still don’t get eaten, so I find I have Christmas Colored M&M’s still here in January. I actually went ahead and took the green ones out to save for St. Patrick’s Day. (Troy thinks that was time well spent on my part…not.) Oh, and I’ve changed the label to from “Attitude Adjustments” to ‘Tokens of Affection’ for Valentine’s Day. Very Martha Stewart of me, I know.
And you know who eats them? Playdates. Occasionally Troy, but only when Dinner is running late, or he’s too lazy to get a beer out of the fridge. The kids that come over, the kids who’s parents have made M&M’s a forbidden fruit, they go after the jar like I did the ice cream sandwiches in the ’70’s.
It’s an interesting theory I think I’ve proven.
The next leg of this experiment will be making Tofu a forbidden fruit to see if they get to the point that they binge on it.