There's a lot about our childhoods we'd like to forget: the school bully, the critical teacher, the hectoring older brother or indifferent parent. But I think we can all agree that some of our most cherished memories relate to Halloween.
For someone who has issues with food, the span between Halloween and Christmas is awesome and brutal for obvious reasons, but for an all-or-nothing type of gal like me, Halloween candy is the worst. And the best. And the worst.
And then the door opened. And standing before us were the two meanest kids in the neighborhood... older kids... nasty kids -- identical twin bullies who once ambushed me when I was riding my bike around the block.
October 31st can be a daunting night for many parents, specifically if their children have food allergies. No one wants their kids to feel left out or like they can't enjoy the same fun trick-or-treating as everyone else.
Every year toward the end of September, as my teeth sink into the crystallized outer shell of the season's first striated melocreme, I hop into my confectionary time machine and find myself whisked back to 10 happy days in Montana.
Similar to reverse rocket science, the crew gathered all the candy in the office -- from Skittles to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups -- and wondered what would happen if we pulverized them in the microwave.