“Just” desserts or “just desserts”?

So there I was, driving by the sea shore, praying that Short Stack would finally drift off in the back seat and succumb to the nap he needed so badly. It had been about 25 minutes now and he was still pointing out areas of interest as we passed them. “Dats a tree. It grows up. Dat… dat’s a duck. He’s sitting in da water. Dose are are dogs. Goes ‘voof voof.'”, Etc, etc, ad nauseam. As I drove along and the running commentary from the baby seat get less frequent, I knew that victory would be mine sooner or later. I still had 3/4 of a tank of gas at my disposal and the heat cranked in the car. Now all I needed to do was not nod off, my self.

Things were finally looking good for nap time and I was scouting a place to pull off and get out my book. Then I saw it. Once again, I was glad that I don’t travel with out a digital camera. I drove on for a bit longer and waited to find out if Short Stack was really out. As soon as his hat was slumped down over his eyes and the breathing got regular, I doubled back to check and see if what I though I saw was really true. It was. This was what it looked like as I drove by…

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I stepped out of the car to make a closer inspection. It was true. A marshmallow and sugar confection tree of pain.

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Monsters! Who could have done this?! Don’t they know the accepted form of Peep capital punishment is to subject them to confinement in the dark, back of a cupboard until they turn to a substance that can only be described as the bastard child of packing peanuts and old chewing gum?

This gruesome reminder of Easter makes me feel a bit guilty about my total lack of Peep eating this year. When I was a kid, they were a possession to be prized. They only came out once a year and they were a much sought after sugar high in a box. They came built with the wonderful excuse that if they weren’t all devoured in a single day, then they would be inedible the next morning. I know, I know. There are those of you out there who like ’em stale. It’s your preference that they should be initially hard as bricks and then, after an hour or so of working on it, as chewy as eating a garden hose… and I say unto you, “Weirdoes”.

Now Peeps are a year ’round affair. They are available for every possible holiday in every possible color. For me, that kind of ruins it. When it’s not something to look forward to, almost forgotten from year to year, then the yellow sugar just doesn’t glimmer as seductively as it once did. I passed them by, these gems of my past because I know that soon there will be more Peeps in many different forms and colors. All in an effort to match what ever holiday comes next. It’s just not the same.

The Bunny has made his deliveries for this year, but the Peeps remain. Some in half eaten baskets of Easter grass, some slowly shriveling up and turning to cement in the back of drawers while others do their time stoically and prominently, impaled on the lower branches of a tree by the ocean, ignored by even the sea gulls, who as you may or may not know, will eat just about anything. I guess when it comes to Peeps, they prefer them fresh as well, thus earning them some points in my book. Thank goodness that I didn’t need to explain this abomination to my two year old son. Action Girl liked the photos, though.

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