A Pint-Sized Candy Crook




wenty-two.  Twenty-three.  Twenty-four.  Umm . . . I know I counted twenty-five reesy cups this morning.  I’d better start over.  One.  Two.  Three . . . Twenty-two.  Twenty-three.  Twenty-four.  Can I count?  I don’t know any more.  I’d better inspect my figures in the thin Mead tablet.  I fan the wide ruled tablet pages to today’s figures.  I was right.  I had counted twenty-five reesy cups.  I jumped up yelling M-O-M-M-A!! at the top of my lungs as I jogged down the staircase.

            Momma runs breathless toward me as I approached the last step.  “What’s wrong?”


            “I’m missing a bar of candy!” I exclaimed bitterly.


            “Did you count it twice?” Momma asked.


            “Yes, Momma.  I recorded the figures in my tablet this morning, and they don’t match the count now,” I informed her.


            “Sweetheart, your dad and I didn’t eat the candy,” Momma proclaimed.


            “Was Alicia, the terrible-two-year-old-destroyer, in my room buzzing around today?” I questioned.


            “No, Vette, however, I’ll pay for the missing candy,” Momma said.


            “Thank you, Momma,” I replied.


            Day after day, my candy bar count fell short one reesy cup.  I know I can count.  Umm . . . Momma has a plan to put a stop to the missing candy.  However, we are not sure if Alicia is eating the candy or if I’m miss-counting.  Mom and I sit at the kitchen table and review her plan.


            “Sweetheart, we’ll pretend we are busy cooking.  Alicia usually disappears about the same time each day.  Therefore, this makes it easy to plot a plan of action because I am curious were she goes.  She is a slick one because when I start to miss her, she returns,” Momma says.


            Mom and I put our plan into action.  We act as though we are so busy cooking.  Alicia tries to be helpful; however, she is getting on our nerves.  Momma finally gives Alicia a coloring book and some crayons.  She amuses herself by drawing and scribing on the pages.  She bores quickly and hops down from the chair.  Alicia’s shoe bells jingle and bingle as she walks out of the kitchen.  I peep around the corner to her sitting on the first step in her baby blue dress.  She proceeds to dismantle the bells from her shoes.  Those little baby hands are fiercely working to get the bells off.  Off goes one bell, and off goes the other bell.  Alicia walks as quiet as a mouse up the staircase to my bedroom.


            I tell my mom it is time because she is gone.  We walk quietly to the stairs and spot Alicia’s bells lying on the steps.  We slip out of our shoes.  Mom and I sneak upstairs like two private investigators.  We walk into my room and peek around the door.  Lo and behold, we spot Alicia sitting in a corner eating a pack of reesy cups.


            “We gotcha!” Mom and I exclaimed.


            Alicia looks up and smiles.  She pops the last morsel in her mouth.


            “No more candy for you young lady,” Momma says as she picks up the pint-sized candy crook.  “The strange thing is she never has any chocolate on her clothing, around her mouth, or on her clothes,” Mom says.


            “That’s strange; however, I know were all my candy is,” I remarked.


            “Where?” Mom asked.


            “In my baby sister’s stomach!” I exclaimed.


            We laugh, and Alicia looks innocent, despite her guilty charge.