Confessions and sweet memories

As kids we had a little routine every Sunday post the church service. We would spend some of our pocket money on a treat at Checkers while my mom bought the Sunday newspaper. We’d then lounge around at home, snacking on our sugary purchases while reading the Sunday Times’ comics or with our noses buried deep in a book.

I would go hell for leather on my stash. My younger sister would make hers last for the day, whereas Vera, the first born, would stretch her supply for longer than I perceived humanly possible. I’m talking the kind of self control that sees the Easter Bunny’s bottom half still hanging around in August.

If one considers the degree of my sweet tooth, the fact that I still have all of my own teeth is a minor miracle. Fortunately my metabolism also dealt relatively well with the potential effect on my weight, although what the sugar did to my personality was quite another story. The youngest in the house (it’s always easiest to pick on them, isn’t it?) was often quite traumatised by my mood swings. Admittedly this memory of me as an ogre on a sugar-high or low, is one we can laugh at over lunch nowadays, but I’m sure at the time it could not have been pretty.

Speaking of meals, the many conversation topics covered over today’s family lunch, included the fact that Nephew A only experiences growth pains in his legs, and not in his upper body. This reminded me of another lunch time conversation, where both now teenage nephews confessed that as under tens they would fake an ache or growing pain in order to obtain what they described as a very tasty banana Panado from Vera. They would exchange a knowing wink as they passed one another in the passage – one clasping a banana Panado in his sweaty paw, the other armed with a compelling reason to be awarded one too.

I don’t think these Panados were around when I was a kid. In fact, I don’t remember medicine ever tasting that good that I would have faked an ailment for it.  If I was going to fake it, my eye was on a much bigger prize – there had to be at least a day off school in it for me. And then there was of course always the option to self-medicate with treats. But I digress.

I recently wrote some copy for a superbly talented friend of mine, who owns a company called bite-size eatery. The name was inspired by her young nephew’s response to the baked edibles and food she prepared. Basically he would demolish the edibles in one go (sound familiar?), and she explained to him that food, especially food prepared with love and reverence, should be enjoyed slowly, one bite at a time. Wise words, even for us adults!

And there you have it – my pearl of wisdom.

Though I’m very happy to report that the chance of a delicious sugary purchase surviving for more than 48-hours is still very slim, as I grew older, a certain level of self-control and discernment did begin to develop.

Another confession. Not too many of today’s Easter Bunnies bottom halves made it past lunch. Mine is still untouched, but I very much doubt it will make it as far as August …

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