Can we cancel candy on Halloween?

Can we cancel candy on Halloween?

I’m well aware that this post will make me unpopular, perhaps with you and most certainly with your kids, but, really, raise your hand if you feel good about handing out sugar bombs to kids when we know the health consequences?

Look, I’m not just talking about tooth decay or gaining a few extra pounds. I’m talking about a lifelong struggle with chronic diseases, like metabolic syndrome, diabetes, and dementia, which, I assure you, is not something we want to pass onto our kids.

It’s hard enough for them already with the mixed messages we send: on the one hand, we want them energized, fit, and focused, ready to take on the demands of school and extracurriculars, but then we give them candy, which makes them moody, overweight, and sick. 

For most kids, eating one bag of Twizzlers or M&Ms is not going to tip the balance and put them at risk for a chronic disease. It’s more complicated than that, as genes, infections, lifestyle (including sleep and stress!), and our microbiome play a massive role. But, at the same time, the role of refined sugar in chronic disease cannot be denied.

Besides, those of us on the front lines of raising kids know that it’s rarely one bag of candy. If your kids trick or treat the way my kids do, they come back with enough loot to supply them well into the next month if not the next year. 

There are some kids and adults who are natural moderators, who can eat a piece or two of candy and call it quits. But many of us, myself included, have a more difficult time with this. That’s why it’s easier for me not to eat the typical Halloween fare. I’ve found that the more sweets one eats, the more one craves sweets, which leads to the sweet taste crowding out the desire for bitter and sour foods (think dark leafy greens like arugula, kale, and dandelion), and frankly, the tastes for homemade food. 

And yet, I’m not advocating for the banishment of Halloween. Any holiday that bolsters community morale, that gets people outside and saying hello to neighbors is worth keeping. It’s thanks in part to Halloween that I met the kids (and their parents) in our neighborhood when we moved here last year.  

But the candy? No thanks.

So what does a parent do?

When we lived in New York City, we made a point of not distributing candy. Instead, we gave pencils, erasers, stickers, granola bars, fruit roll ups, and, my favorite, orange-and-black toothbrushes. Being the new kids on the block last year, our kids pleaded with us to “please, be normal,” and to distribute candy instead. We acquiesced, but I felt terrible doing so. Suffice it to say, we’re back to toothbrushes and Xylitol-sweetened lollipops this year. 

On the receiving side of the equation, Jeremy and I have made a ritual of purchasing our kids candy, at an inflated rate--call it what you like-- so that they could then buy something they wanted. The first couple of years this worked like a charm. Last year, they were reluctant to do so, and we, mindful that overly restricting can lead to a power struggle, let them dig in, only to witness an unpleasant roller coaster ride of sugar highs and crashes, dinners half eaten, sniffles, and tummy aches. It was enough for us to declare, “Next year in the North Pole”—or some other place that doesn’t celebrate Halloween.

But here we are again, right back in our neighborhood, slated to participate in the day’s festivities.

Instead of only bemoaning what might occur this afternoon, we’ve been talking to our kids about making decisions about food and consuming candy. Yes, we have an agenda, but I’ve learned they’re going to be more inclined to go along with it if they’re part of the decision-making process. Not surprisingly, each one has a different view, with Tamar saying that she’s not planning to eat the candy she collects, because she knows it affects her skin and how she feels afterwards. Her younger sister, Yael, on the other hand, would like to eat some of the candy with chocolate and sell the rest of the “junk” to us, while Julian is interested in consuming, well, a lot of it. 

Still, we’re prepared to buy their candy, and as difficult as it is for this functional health/abstainer mama to do, Jeremy and I will allow for them to take a stab at moderation. They can choose to eat the candy they’ve collected, downstairs in the kitchen, for the next couple of days. We don’t have a magic number--we’re hoping they’ll make a reasonable decision, by tuning into their own bodies and seeing how they feel. We’ll also serve a protein-rich breakfast and lunch, before trick or treating, in the hopes that sugar cravings will be low, and I’ll do my best to encourage them to enjoy whatever they’ve chosen to eat.  I admit that encouraging them to enjoy Halloween candy will be difficult for me, but shaming them while they’re eating never turns out well. If they chose to eat candy, let them savor it, preferably together or with friends.

Much as I wish the candy away, I know that I alone am not going to change the $3 billion Halloween candy industry; it will take a community effort to say collectively, no thanks. To my neighborhood, I propose brainstorming different ideas to maintain the community spirit of the day while canceling the candy, a small investment in our kids’ future health.