candy

I only packed a carryon for my trip to Southeast Asia because I was going to be changing planes twice and staying in three different hotels. There was very little room to bring back souvenirs for the girls, and I while I was trying to figure out what to get them I decided that going forward I’d only buy them foreign candy. They have so many wallets and keychains and little useless trinkets spilling out of their closets, up and over toy boxes, and filling every junk drawer that it’s kind of pointless to add to that collection. Candy? They’ll eat it and I won’t eventually have to pack it up and get rid of it when they aren’t looking.

So I brought them back a few boxes of this particular version of Pocky, little pretzel sticks covered in chocolate, knowing that I wouldn’t have to declare it at customs. Trust me, you can try to smuggle a chicken in from Bangladesh, but they will catch you every single time.

Before I pulled them out of my suitcase I told Marlo I’d brought her a gift. This happened:

Me: I brought you something from my trip! 5yr-old: Is it pink?! Me: No, but… 5yr-old: … Me: … 5yr-old: Then I'll pretend to like it.

— Heather B. Armstrong (@dooce) June 25, 2014

Pretend, indeed. She ate a whole box by herself, that turd.