Ethical conundrum: How much of their toddlers’ Halloween candy can parents eat?
Related: How much of their own Halloween candy should toddlers eat?
Last Halloween, we guiltily ate most of our baby’s trick-or-treating haul. He was under a year, most of it was a choking hazard, and at the time, we erred on the side of not giving him much sugar.
This Halloween, we’d given up banning sugar, he knew what treats were, he had his molars, and honestly, we wanted him to participate fully in the holiday — and that meant candy. Since he was getting candy, little sibling would want candy too. (This, of course, complicated ethical conundrum #1. I told myself that Snickers were still a choking hazard — the nuts! the caramel! — and hoarded them all for myself.)
Our game plan was Ellyn Satter’s advice.
For everyday snacks and meals, Ellyn Satter’s Division of Responsibility prevents parental tantrums and anxiety over our toddlers’ weird eating habits. Eats FOUR cheese sticks in one sitting, then refuses to eat them for weeks after that. Can’t get enough bananas one week, can’t throw them off the side of their tray fast enough the next. Eats so much pasta that I almost don’t get a decent serving, eats little to nothing for the next few meals. One of our toddlers regularly consumes nothing but milk at 1 or 2 meals a day, even when we offer tried-and-true favorites. WHY. The double whammy of food waste and potentially starving children is too much for my soul to take.
In comes DOR to restore sanity. The gist of DOR is this: Parents decide what, when, and where kids eat. Children decide what and how much (if anything) to eat of that selection. No coaxing, no threatening, no force-feeding, no little airplane spoon rides to transport peas into a determinedly closed toddler’s mouth. It’s all based in trusting children to regulate themselves and to learn to enjoy various foods through time and structure.
Even with Halloween candy.
When he comes home from trick-or-treating, let him lay out his booty, gloat over it, sort it and eat as much of it as he wants. Let him do the same the next day. Then have him put it away and relegate it to meal- and snack-time: a couple of small pieces at meals for dessert and as much as he wants for snack-time.
Harrowing advice, I must say, but we’ve been using DOR since Day 1 and we’ve liked the results so far. So we decided to stick to it and trust it, no matter what happened. And if it all exploded in our faces, we’d do something different next year.
I was okay with the initial night of celebration. Trick-or-treating ended at dinnertime (with meltdowns all around, Mommy included — do you know how exhausting it is to chaperone a tripping-prone child who insists on either meandering slowly by themselves or being carried around the block, no exceptions?!). They got to pick treats out at dinner, but honestly, the toddlers ate more of their auntie’s chocolate chip pumpkin muffins than their candy. (Excellent choice, by the way.) They enjoyed dumping out and throwing their candy at Daddy even more than eating it.
On Day 2, interest in eating treats appeared with a vengeance. Nonstop whining, tantrumming, and/or asking for treats all morning long. Hello, Terrible Twos. One of them skipped over their peanut butter waffles, thinking I’d offer Skittles for breakfast instead. I didn’t, and a packet of Gobstoppers went flying into my coffee. I know Ellyn said to give them free reign over treats the day after (probably to avoid this very post-Halloween cryfest), but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that because I still felt all judged and uncertain about toddlers indulging in unlimited sweets, and it’s a hassle to wipe sticky fingers and faces all morning long, and I planned on giving them as much as they wanted at snack time…if we all survived until 10:30 AM.
We did survive. I gave them full cups of milk and total control of the pumpkin treat bucket (minus choking hazards). I felt like I unwrapped hundreds of candies. I was shocked at how much anxiety was flooding my system. Hey-o, never knew I had this many negative associations with sugar. Didn’t know childhood obesity was a deep dark fear. Who’d’ve thunk that watching my toddler stuff their face with candy and — oh, horror! — enjoy every carefree bite could trigger so much worry? It felt like this would never end. It felt like their appetites were bottomless. It felt like I’d failed as a mother because my kids liked candy. We will never recover from this! They’ll never eat vegetables now!
It’s really sad that my anxious adult lens dampened my experience of their pure joy over trying new treats for the first time. In all actuality, one ate about five pieces and the other ate about six pieces, plus they chugged two cups of milk each. (I didn’t even bother offering an alternate snack.) They both stopped when their bodies told them to stop. We had a few conversations about treats after that, but even the Gobstopper-throwing child graciously accepted that treats would be served at meals and snacks only, and there was no more whining about candy for the entire week after Halloween.
They ate all of their lunch an hour later. I was genuinely shocked, what with the conventional wisdom that sugar before meals spoils the appetite. But I guess, in hindsight, we really hadn’t done anything differently: I let them eat their fill at snack as I always do. Snack just happened to be Halloween treats.
At afternoon snack, I offered a non-treat snack plus their Halloween treats. Along with some non-treat snack, one ate about four pieces, the other opened a bunch of candy to try but only ate a few pieces. Dinner was uneventful, both accepting that they were allowed only one treat at meals.
On Day Three, they ate snack on the wagon ride home from library storytime, so the treat bucket was unavailable. I told their babysitter they could eat one piece at lunch, but neither asked for one even though the bucket sat smack dab in front of them. I don’t remember afternoon snack or dinner (probably a couple treats at snack and one at dinner), but since the excitement of Halloween was dying off for them, I stopped offering treats as snack options and dessert on Day 4. Zero complaints.
The treat bucket now sits on my nightstand, where I have sadly eaten all the Snickers and am selflessly reserving the last few Reese’s peanut butter cups for my husband. The last time a toddler ate candy was yesterday, when they interrupted my nap by waking up early from their nap, and I said, yes, yes, eat the Skittles pouch you found between the couch cushions; sure, of course, watch some dad play with Disney trucks on YouTube; do whatever you want, JUST LET ME SLEEP. (I am a desperately exhausted pregnant woman, people.)
Regarding Ethical Conundrum #1: I’m not sure. After all, Snickers are on the line.
Regarding Ethical Conundrum #2: How much of their own candy should kiddos eat? As much as their bodies want — which, it turns out, isn’t as scary a proposition as I thought.