Jelly Bellies

A couple of Christmases ago, I splurged and bought Quinn the Playmobil Airport set. Not because he had been jonesing for it or because he loved Playmobil or airplanes, but because I had determined that he needed to work on his building skills. (It was also in a very large box that would make for an impressive Santa delivery.)

Within this box contained a movable elevator, baggage carousel, control tower, passengers, staff, even a customs officer and dozens of tiny plastic potted plants. I’m not sure what the piece count was, but I do know that it was significantly more than the number of the pieces included with my Cuisinart. It also looked like enough pieces to occupy several hours on December 26th so that I could enjoy some pleasure reading. What I didn’t anticipate however is that this new *fun* building project would require not just the full time involvement of an adult, but also the dexterity of a dentist and the patience of someone who is not me. By the time the airport was finally put together and ready for play, Quinn had lost interest and it was time for dinner.

We kept the airport assembled on the dining room table for several days (I wanted to make sure that this labor of love was on full display), but there’s only so much you can do with a play airport that for all it’s hundreds of pieces didn’t actually include any airplanes. Since then, the $60 Playmobil Airport has largely remained in the toy cabinet. I’ve insisted that all the pieces stay together and have even bought a special plastic tub from Storables to make that possible. I continue to hope that someone, sometime will enjoy snapping tiny plastic potted plants around the check-in counter. I tried to resurrect it when Colin turned four because he loves airplanes. While I was wrestling with where to attach the computer terminal in the control tower and throwing in a couple of expletives for good measure – Colin had already built his own multi-room runway with pillows and cardboard boxes and was busy flying his fleet of airplanes to Boston and Hawaii. So no need for the customs officer?

I now think of that Playmobil set every time I set foot in a toy store. I remind myself that my kids don’t need all the plastic stuff to have fun, that sometimes/oftentimes it’s the small things that bring them the greatest joy. And a little sugar doesn’t hurt either.

On a recent trip to Costco, Brett happened down the candy isle and decided to pick up a $10 super sized jar of jelly bellies. At first blush, I thought this was a mistake. After all, my husband
hasn’t had a carbonated soda in decades, nor has he ever shared a box of Hot Tamales with me. He’s the guy who knew about high fructose corn syrup before Dr Oz, and who is visibly burdened by white flour and anything other than plain non-fat organic yogurt. So the jelly bellies were naturally a surprise, but one that has brought incredible amounts of delight to our boys.

In addition to being the perfect after dinner treat because of the inherent ability to ration (look like a hero on a 15 jelly belly night!), do you know that there are 49 different flavors in this jar of jelly bellies? And do you know what mystery there is in trying to figure out just what jelly belly goodness awaits with each one that is popped into your mouth? Or what kind of trades you can make with your younger brother to try to pawn off a buttered popcorn jelly belly? We have spent hours laughing and ribbing each other during these jelly belly evenings. We have played games. We have ordered and reordered our favorite flavors. And we have found uneaten strawberry cheesecake jelly bellies (the least favorite on everyone’s list) throughout the house.

My favorite moment was when Colin ate his first Licorice jelly belly and exclaimed, “Mom, mom – this one tastes like FENNEL!” That’s right people, my four year old knew the taste of fennel before he knew the taste of licorice. I felt incredible pride at this moment knowing that I had shaped my son’s palette to know a vegetable before a candy flavor. What a good and righteous Mom I am, I thought.

As I was basking in these thoughts, the conversation somehow turned to college. A couple of minutes into the conversation, Quinn looked over at Colin and said, “Colin, do you know what college is?” To which Colin immediately replied, “Of course, Quinn … college is where people play basketball.”

Maybe not so righteous.