Some things are sacred.

Last week I learned a couple of new things:
1) A large part of the reason I did the whole easter basket thing for my daughter this year was so that I could have the extra candy laying around for me to eat.
2) No matter how small the person, I am unable to raid another being's candy-stash.

Hubby and I had as much fun buying the candy and reliving our childhood memories of easter candy, as we did seeing Monkey have a ball finding those plastic eggs and shoving as much of their sugary contents into her mouth at once as possible . We (hubby and I) also managed to polish off the leftover mini-candy-bar mix by sunday night. My role as "Mom" in this family means that I am one-half of the "keepers of the easter basket", monitoring and doling out the easter treats at some reasonably slower-than-she'd-like rate until they are gone. So there I was Monday afternoon, in the midst of PMS, when I caught the glimpse of the little Almond Joy bars and Reeses-cups peeking out of Monkey's easter basket. I am proud that almost as soon as I thought "she'll never notice if I were to have one or two of her candy-bars," I found that place in myself where a person's candy-stash is sacred. Raiding my daughter's candy was as disgusting a thought as... say, dressing her up in a giant floofy dress and fake lashes, and entering her in a toddler-pageant (and to me, that's really frickin disgusting...). So I just ate some of the leftover gumdrops and sat back with the contented smile of a woman who could look her daughter in the eye when she woke up from her nap. I do have the feeling, though, that there will be a day when life is just too much and I do take that tiny morsel of chocolate, with the knowledge that once upon a time, life was simpler and I saved my "keeper-of-the-candy" priviledge for this moment that would make or break my sanity.