We’ve been using M&Ms to bribe Tiller into using the potty. (I don’t want to hear the “you are going to give her an eating disorder” comments, either.) So far, it’s not working well, but I can totally use them as good-behavior-inducing after-dinner treats. I’ve been counting Weight Watcher’s points again, hoping to kick my weight loss back into gear (working out alone just doesn’t do crap for me), but when i saw the diminutive little individual bags, i thought, “Oh, I’ll just have one and count the points later.” Big mistake: Four points!!!! They are the devil.
I went into the den, turned on Jeopardy, opened the bag and dumped them out on the coffee table. I separated the M&Ms into colors, then put each color group into a little line, so that i could see how many of each color I had. Then, i ate from the colors with the most candies, until i had evened out the lines. Then, I proceeded to eat the m&ms one at a time, taking one from each color line (brown first) until they were all gone.
At some point, Tiller came in, having inhaled her M&Ms, asking for more. “Nope,” I said, “you need to go put your dishes in the sink and then go up and wash your hands.” Finishing up my own neatly-ordered portion, I realized I hadn’t heard much out of Rollie. Cleaning up my wrapper and grabbing my drink glass, I walked back into the kitchen, belting out a “Rollie, what are you doing, buddy? It’s time to clean up and hit the showers!”
“Mama, I’m not finished yet!” he yelled back.
I looked at the kitchen table and came to a screeching halt. Rollie was intently looking down at his M&Ms, all laid out neatly in piles, organized by color. I watched him for a moment.
“Rollie, what are you doing?”
“Eating my M&Ms!”
“You put them in little piles?”
“Yup.”
“By color?”
“Yup.”
“I used to do that when i was a little girl.”
“You did, mama?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said with a smile. “You come on up and get ready for a bath when you get done with the M&Ms, okay?”
“Okay, Mama,” he replied, not once taking his eyes off the little colored piles, his eyes scanning them, as he carefully picked one and popped it into his mouth.
Sometimes genetics are just downright weird. And sometimes they are kind of sweet.
