The Full Suburban: Partner’s relationship with sugar proves to be revealing

I saw something alarming a few weeks ago. I don’t think I was supposed to see it, but it was just sitting there on Logan’s dresser and now I don’t know what to do, because it calls into question the very nature of the man I married.

It was a single peppermint-flavored Hershey kiss – fully wrapped, completely untouched – from last Christmas. Last Christmas! What kind of person leaves a piece of candy just sitting there for an entire year? How has he not eaten it during a moment of stress while hiding from our kids in the closet? Or popped it in his mouth first thing in the morning before the fog has even cleared from his bleary eyes? Do I even know this man??

Leaving around stray pieces of candy – or treats in general – is certainly not how I operate. My family knows that if sweets are left unclaimed or unhidden for more than a day or two, they are fair game and I will most likely eat them.

Exhibit A: Several years ago, one of my kids got a cupcake and a Rice Krispies treat at a birthday party and brought them home. Later that day, I found a note sitting next to the treats on the counter: “Don’t touch this, mom!” Geez, OK, I get it.

Knowing my track record, Logan shouldn’t have been surprised a few days after Christmas when I off-handedly mentioned that earlier in the day I had eaten the box of holiday-edition Peppermint Crunch Junior Mints that had been in his stocking.

“What?” he cried. “I was going to eat those!”

“No, you weren’t,” I said defensively. “You don’t care about them any more than you care about that peppermint Hershey Kiss on your dresser. You left them just sitting there on your desk for three days!”

“Three days isn’t that long,” he replied. “I was going to get to them eventually.”

“Get to them eventually???” I screeched. “Anyone who feels so complacent about holiday-edition Peppermint Crunch Junior Mints doesn’t deserve to lick the box they’re packaged in. And anyway, I originally bought that box for myself, but on Christmas Eve I noticed that your stocking was looking a little thin, so I slipped them inside. I assumed Santa would get me a box or two of my own, since he knows they’re my favorite – but he kind of dropped the ball on that one.”

Logan looked a little scared at that point, so I smiled. “No worries. I’ll replace your Junior Mints by sneaking a box from one of the kids; they got so much candy on Christmas morning, they’ll never miss it.”

So, that was my role during the holiday season: candy hound and cold, hardened criminal.

When he wasn’t eating candy (which was apparently all the time), Logan’s holiday role was three-fold: 1) organize frequent family game time, because Santa brought us approximately 2,763 new board games; 2) supervise all sledding and driveway plowing activities; and 3) maintain and dispose of trash.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise that the holiday season with six kids is not a waste-free experience. By Dec. 26, our garbage can and general garage area were overflowing with stale gingerbread houses, crumpled-up wrapping paper, broken-down empty boxes, and all the packaging that comes with hoverboards, remote-control cars, and new shoes.

“The garbage truck is coming by later today,” I reminded Logan a few days after Christmas. “It’s going to be brutal.”

Logan got a steely look in his eyes and raised his chin defiantly as he headed out to the garage to corral the trash. “This is going to be my finest hour,” he said.

I’d never been more attracted to him in my life. It was almost enough to make me feel bad about the Junior Mints. But not quite.

Julia Ditto shares her life with her husband, six children and a random menagerie of farm animals in Spokane Valley. She can be reached at dittojulia@gmail.com.