McDonald's and a Candy Bar
“Mom, I love you.”
My mom, taking groceries out of the cart, and putting them on magically moving conveyor said without turning around, “I love you too, David.”
“Mom…”
“Yes, David.”
“Can I have some candy?”
Mom turned around in the aisle to find me staring enraptured by the strategically placed racks of glossily wrapped candy. My heart was in my throat as my 7 year old eyes greedily roved over the seductively colorful candy bars. I was enthralled by the mysteriously named “Three Musketeers”, “Charleston Chew”, “Twix”, “Smarties” and most puzzling of all, “M&Ms”
Mom smiled. “You love me, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Can I have a ‘Three Musketeers”?
The answer that Mom gave to this question is of little import in my memory. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes no. I suppose the answer reflected how much money she had and whether I had been bad or good that day. Or maybe it depended on how convincingly I told her that I loved her.
*******************************
That same seven year old boy, sitting in the back seat of my families car. Dad, masterfully driving, mom in the seat beside him. They talked and laughed in the front seat. I could hear the gentle murmer of their voices, but when combined with the hum of the engine, the rush of the wind, and the buzz of the tires, I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to each other (which I realize now, as an adult myself, was actually on purpose.
They knew that we couldn’t understand the words, so they could carry on their own conversation in open privacy.) My brother was sitting on the back seat next to me, staring out the window on his side of the car.
My forehead was pressed against the cool glass of my window, and I stared at the fields and houses flashing by me. Sometimes I would stare fixedly out in one direction and let the landscape blur by in an indistinguished stream. Other times my eyes would flit ahead and fix on one detail after another.
This particular day in my memory, maybe it was a Saturday evening. Maybe my family had been out for a drive, or maybe we had been to one of the neighboring towns to visit friends or family. The relevant fact was that in my memory, we were coming into Malone (my home town) northbound on US Route 11. And even more relevantly, we were about 200 yards from McDonalds.
It was usually at this point that I started praying.
“Please, God. Make dad start slowing down. Please, please, please.” I would stare fixedly at my dad, willing him to take his foot off the gas, and let the car coast slower and slower. One of the problems was that McDonald’s was on the outskirts of town, so if he did take his foot off the gas, it might be that he was simply slowing down to the speed limit.
“Please put your foot on the brake. Come on dad.” I would silently instruct him.
“Oh…I think he is braking. I think he really is slowing down!!!!”
Dad, a twinkle in his eye would look back at me in the rear view mirror. “Who wants to go to McDonald’s?”
Gary and I, sitting up straight, would grin back at my Dad.
So that was what Mom and Dad had been talking about just below the audible threshold. My mind started scrolling through the menu. What did I want? A Big Mac? A 10 piece Chicken McNugget? A strawberry shake? An apple pie…
****************************
We will leave this enraptured 7 year old to his decision, and fast forward a little.
Now I am 33 years old. I own my own small remodeling company. I have faced some of the issues that adults face, and hopefully have grown in wisdom, and certainly in stature, relative to that scrawny 7 year old that I was. I even, according to my wife, have grey patches appearing in my hair. But still there is that little boy inside of me. He tends to talk to me as I am checking out at a grocery store with Gracie.
Gracie and I are unloading the groceries onto the magically moving conveyor, and the cashier is swiping them across the laser reader. Above the sound of the monotonous beeps of the laser, I hear this little voice, “Hey, look at the rack of candy.” My eyes flit over to the enticingly wrapped candy bars. “You can buy one. You have the money. You have been a good boy today…go ahead. You don’t have to ask anyone.”
I rapidly pick up 4 different candy bars, and serruptitiously put them on the conveyor behind the boxes of cereal. Gracie catches the motion out of the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?”
“Umm…nothing.”
“David, are you buying candy?” She smiles as she moves the boxes, and sees my cache of brightly wrapped candy bars. “Four?” She looks at me in amusement.
“Well…well. I won’t eat them all at once” I lie.
She nods her head. “Sometimes you are such a little boy.”
I shrug, looking down at my candy bars that I can buy whenever I want to. I love being an adult.
***************************
Later on that day, Gracie and I are wading our way through our personal and business bookkeeping. When we are finished, we pull up some reports in Quicken and Quickbooks, and see where we are spending our money.
Gracie’s eyes scan down the list of expenses, and stops at the “Eating out” category. Her eyebrows shoot up, “Good grief. We have to stop eating out so much.”
Guiltily, I look at the figure. I think to myself, “I wonder if I should tell her how much I eat out on my business debit card on top of that amount.”
I find it very hard to resist, now that I am the driver, and can put on the brake and turn into a fast food place anytime I want. Though it usually is not McDonald’s anymore. It is more likely to be Chik-fil-a or Schlotzky’s Deli. But the delight is still there. I can eat out any time I want to now.
But staring at the huge dollar amount on the Quicken report, I begin to realize why dad didn’t always turn into McDonalds, even though he must have known that his 7 year old son was praying fervently for him to do so.
“Well, actually honey. I have been spending a lot more than that when I am out working. I probably eat out most every day.”
She looks at me, and smiles knowingly. “Well, maybe I can pack a lunch for you most days, and you can just eat out every once in a while as a treat.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
The 7 year old boy has to grow up some time. But he loves knowing that he can always step on the brake and turn in to McDonald’s when he really wants to.
***********************************
By the way:
The M and M on M&M candies stand for Mars and Murrie who were the heads at M&M Candies in the 194Os
My mom, taking groceries out of the cart, and putting them on magically moving conveyor said without turning around, “I love you too, David.”
“Mom…”
“Yes, David.”
“Can I have some candy?”
Mom turned around in the aisle to find me staring enraptured by the strategically placed racks of glossily wrapped candy. My heart was in my throat as my 7 year old eyes greedily roved over the seductively colorful candy bars. I was enthralled by the mysteriously named “Three Musketeers”, “Charleston Chew”, “Twix”, “Smarties” and most puzzling of all, “M&Ms”
Mom smiled. “You love me, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Can I have a ‘Three Musketeers”?
The answer that Mom gave to this question is of little import in my memory. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes no. I suppose the answer reflected how much money she had and whether I had been bad or good that day. Or maybe it depended on how convincingly I told her that I loved her.
*******************************
That same seven year old boy, sitting in the back seat of my families car. Dad, masterfully driving, mom in the seat beside him. They talked and laughed in the front seat. I could hear the gentle murmer of their voices, but when combined with the hum of the engine, the rush of the wind, and the buzz of the tires, I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to each other (which I realize now, as an adult myself, was actually on purpose.
They knew that we couldn’t understand the words, so they could carry on their own conversation in open privacy.) My brother was sitting on the back seat next to me, staring out the window on his side of the car.
My forehead was pressed against the cool glass of my window, and I stared at the fields and houses flashing by me. Sometimes I would stare fixedly out in one direction and let the landscape blur by in an indistinguished stream. Other times my eyes would flit ahead and fix on one detail after another.
This particular day in my memory, maybe it was a Saturday evening. Maybe my family had been out for a drive, or maybe we had been to one of the neighboring towns to visit friends or family. The relevant fact was that in my memory, we were coming into Malone (my home town) northbound on US Route 11. And even more relevantly, we were about 200 yards from McDonalds.
It was usually at this point that I started praying.
“Please, God. Make dad start slowing down. Please, please, please.” I would stare fixedly at my dad, willing him to take his foot off the gas, and let the car coast slower and slower. One of the problems was that McDonald’s was on the outskirts of town, so if he did take his foot off the gas, it might be that he was simply slowing down to the speed limit.
“Please put your foot on the brake. Come on dad.” I would silently instruct him.
“Oh…I think he is braking. I think he really is slowing down!!!!”
Dad, a twinkle in his eye would look back at me in the rear view mirror. “Who wants to go to McDonald’s?”
Gary and I, sitting up straight, would grin back at my Dad.
So that was what Mom and Dad had been talking about just below the audible threshold. My mind started scrolling through the menu. What did I want? A Big Mac? A 10 piece Chicken McNugget? A strawberry shake? An apple pie…
****************************
We will leave this enraptured 7 year old to his decision, and fast forward a little.
Now I am 33 years old. I own my own small remodeling company. I have faced some of the issues that adults face, and hopefully have grown in wisdom, and certainly in stature, relative to that scrawny 7 year old that I was. I even, according to my wife, have grey patches appearing in my hair. But still there is that little boy inside of me. He tends to talk to me as I am checking out at a grocery store with Gracie.
Gracie and I are unloading the groceries onto the magically moving conveyor, and the cashier is swiping them across the laser reader. Above the sound of the monotonous beeps of the laser, I hear this little voice, “Hey, look at the rack of candy.” My eyes flit over to the enticingly wrapped candy bars. “You can buy one. You have the money. You have been a good boy today…go ahead. You don’t have to ask anyone.”
I rapidly pick up 4 different candy bars, and serruptitiously put them on the conveyor behind the boxes of cereal. Gracie catches the motion out of the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?”
“Umm…nothing.”
“David, are you buying candy?” She smiles as she moves the boxes, and sees my cache of brightly wrapped candy bars. “Four?” She looks at me in amusement.
“Well…well. I won’t eat them all at once” I lie.
She nods her head. “Sometimes you are such a little boy.”
I shrug, looking down at my candy bars that I can buy whenever I want to. I love being an adult.
***************************
Later on that day, Gracie and I are wading our way through our personal and business bookkeeping. When we are finished, we pull up some reports in Quicken and Quickbooks, and see where we are spending our money.
Gracie’s eyes scan down the list of expenses, and stops at the “Eating out” category. Her eyebrows shoot up, “Good grief. We have to stop eating out so much.”
Guiltily, I look at the figure. I think to myself, “I wonder if I should tell her how much I eat out on my business debit card on top of that amount.”
I find it very hard to resist, now that I am the driver, and can put on the brake and turn into a fast food place anytime I want. Though it usually is not McDonald’s anymore. It is more likely to be Chik-fil-a or Schlotzky’s Deli. But the delight is still there. I can eat out any time I want to now.
But staring at the huge dollar amount on the Quicken report, I begin to realize why dad didn’t always turn into McDonalds, even though he must have known that his 7 year old son was praying fervently for him to do so.
“Well, actually honey. I have been spending a lot more than that when I am out working. I probably eat out most every day.”
She looks at me, and smiles knowingly. “Well, maybe I can pack a lunch for you most days, and you can just eat out every once in a while as a treat.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
The 7 year old boy has to grow up some time. But he loves knowing that he can always step on the brake and turn in to McDonald’s when he really wants to.
***********************************
By the way:
The M and M on M&M candies stand for Mars and Murrie who were the heads at M&M Candies in the 194Os
posted by Superdave at 6:51 AM
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