I grew up in a house surrounded by farmland. "Neighborhood Children" was an idea of the imagination...but that didn't deter Mom from hoping for a trick-or-treater every Halloween. She would fill a bright orange plastic pumpkin with all sorts of goodies, which my father would eat slowly during the month of October. On the thirtieth, she would restock the plastic pumpkin, and on the first of November, after nary a trick-or-treater came, my father would sink his fingers into the stash, devouring the candy this time with less dillydallying.

The tradition has continued over the last twenty-plus years, this feeding of candy to my father, but Mom remains hopeful that one day...one day...a comely ghoul-child would grace her doorstep. And so it went this year, but with a new addition to the pumpkin: Fun Size Peanut M&M's©. Now, I inherited more from my father than I care to admit, but I cannot hide that my adoration with chocolate coated goober peas was cultivated by Dad, who used to eat them by the handful while I stood tugging on his pant leg begging for even a taste.

"Fun Size" is a misnomer, naturally. They've clouded up part of the gleam that shone over the large, glutton's paradise bag. Mom says eagerly, "No!—but it's a good thing! It's good! It's portion control!" That being said, the M&M supply had to be replenished no less than four times during the month of October.

Dad would hunker past us, looking sheepish, and clutching five fun size bags in a hand. Mom would get up, asking me coyly, "Do you want some Peanut M&M's?" Um...silly question. We ripped into the bags and then forty-five minutes later, Mom would get up, asking me coyly, "Do you want some Peanut M&M's?" Um...still a silly question.

I just love seeing portion control in action.