Help me remember: Is there a song about a benevolent Veggieman who takes the sunrise, sprinkles it with dew, covers it in spinach puree and a much needed miracle or fifty-two? Doesn’t he take a rainbow or some other illusion of light and water, wrap it in a deep, defeated sigh, soak it in the sun to make an iffy arugula pie?
Oh, wait. That’s the Candyman. He’s the guy who covers things in chocolate and makes groovy lemon pies. Nobody sings songs of the vegetable. How silly of me.
I respectfully nod at the Veggieman and let him and all he peddles into our home on a daily basis. That is why I am not worried about being the occasional Sugarmama too. My kids eat candy! That seems like a rebellious statement to make in our age of pious eating, but I don’t care. I don’t idolize the contents of my cupboard.
Is it okay to gorge on carrots and spinach? No. It isn’t okay to be a glutton for anything. That’s why I want to teach my kids to approach all foods with respect and an eye on wise moderation. Candy is food, not plastic explosives.
All this build up for a plea to go over to Mile High Mamas for my real post? Yes. I wrote about Halloween and it’s alluring treats.