When we arrived in Clarksville to spend Spring Break with our three youngest grandsons, I handed Trey, Jakey, and Will bags of Easter candy since we had not been there for their Easter activities. Their faces plummeted.
“What on earth is wrong, boys?” I asked. “Don’t you like candy anymore?”
“Yes, ma’am, but we can’t have it,” Trey replied. “We’re on restriction from sweets for two weeks.”
“Well, the candy will keep,” I consoled them. “Why are you on restriction?”
It seems that Sunday before their vacation, the boys were given some television time before dinner. They’d settled into the overstuffed couch to watch Ninjago. In a few minutes, Trey (age 10) roamed off to the kitchen, where he climbed up on the counter and found a tub of vanilla frosting on the top shelf up next to the ceiling. He opened it and slipped it back to the living room where his brothers were so engrossed in their program that they didn’t notice. Trey hid the open tub down in the corner of the couch behind the cushions so he could reach in with his finger to scoop out a hefty taste of frosting every few minutes.
Jakey (age 8) and Will (age 4) were not so involved in television that they didn’t notice Trey eating something that smelled really good.
“I had to share with them, Grandma,” Trey told me. “I didn’t have any choice. They would have told on me.”
Soon three boys were reaching into the recesses of the couch. Even though his brothers had discovered his secret, Trey still had to hide it in case some adult walked in. Three hands, probably dirty, were dipping into the frosting tub and stuffing the frosting into eager mouths.
At some point, Jakey remarked, “I wish we had chocolate instead of vanilla. I like chocolate better.”
“Me, too,” Will agreed.
“Hold on a minute,” Trey said, heading off to the kitchen. Temporarily forgetting Ninjago, Jakey and Will trailed behind their big brother.
Once again, Trey climbed up the cabinet to the highest of the cabinet shelves and brought out a tub of chocolate frosting. Instinctively they all knew to be quiet. Noise would summon their parents to check on them.
Back in the living room, they hid this tub in the opposite corner of the couch behind another cushion and all dug in. After a very short time, they discovered that the chocolate frosting didn’t taste very good any more.
About this time their dad, Calvin, came down to cook supper and walked through the room to check on them. The chocolate smeared on Will’s dimpled face was Calvin’s first clue that all might not be well. Then he noticed that Trey had a bit of a green cast to his face and was holding his stomach. Jakey, eyes big as plates, just looked like the Cheshire cat. Before the boys could ward off disaster, the whole story came out. When Calvin picked up the cushions, he found their undersides well frosted in two flavors.
Calvin called Julie, the mother of these three, into the room for a consultation. The first order of business was to clean the couch, which the boys were forced to do. Julie provided cleaning tools and supervision as they pondered appropriate punishments. The boys scrubbed and worried as all that frosting churned in their stomachs. When the couch was clean and the boys were very sure they’d never want sweets again, the sentence came down from Mom and Dad.
No sweets for two weeks!
“Not so bad,” they thought, as their stomachs ached. However, by the time Grandma appeared with Easter candy, they’d recovered, but only served half their sentence.
A grandmother’s job is to side always with the children. I pointed out to Julie and Calvin that child labor is illegal in the USA, and that the whole mess was all their fault any way. If they just made all their desserts from scratch like Grandma does, the frosting wouldn’t have been in the house tempting those poor children. Furthermore, their ensuing stomach aches were punishment enough for those pitiable boys.
The boys and I thought my arguments quite valid, but I wasted my time. The boys will have Easter candy next weekend—maybe. If they can stay out of trouble that long.