A little more than 20 years ago, we were at an out-door festival in France. The boys asked for cotton candy. Neither boy had a huge sweet tooth so we were intrigued. They had spied gargantuan paper cones, straining under the weight of the biggest, fluffiest clouds of pale pink spun sugar they had ever, ever seen. Of course, we said yes. If for nothing else, to watch it being made. The proprietor was a 7-year-old boy, our youngest about the same age, so he ordered politely and paid, speaking French.
The machine was starting to hum. Little pieces of spun sugar were floating in the air above us. You could smell the warm scent of sugar. The “chef” was standing on a wooden box, so he would be tall enough to make the confection. It was thrilling to watch it grow and grow. We were all smiling and watching. Our gaze did not leave the machine, the boy or the growing work of sugar art. Think of a little boy, rolling a huge pink sleeping bag onto a paper stick…………………………..
….. in moments, before our very eyes, it was all too much. He started screaming. Papa, Papa, Papa!!!!!! All of a sudden his father came hustling over, laughing and smiling. His big arms, reached over and all at once, grabbed the cone of pure goodness, shut off the machine and lifted up & hugged his son. Laughing.
We were all laughing and smiling. The man handed the amazingly large portion of spun sugar, somehow, glued to a paper cone over to our youngest. The boys thanked their new chef friend. Merci. Both our boys were so curious and fascinated that another person their age group, was “working”.
The four of us all shared. We smiled and laughed and repeated the story over and over. The boys acting out the making of cotton candy and imitating the screams of the little boy, calling for his Papa.
Certainly one of those stories that will get my guys talking and reminiscing in a flash. I think that is how cotton candy is supposed to be. A delicious, treat and story to be shared over and over. Each of us licking our sticky fingers.
So grateful for good memories and a memory bank that can help me smell the cotton candy and hear the belly laughs of our boys.
A few years ago, a Jamba Juice opened in a nearby town. What a treat! Fresh juice smoothies. Oh, my goodness, the moment you walked into the shop it smelled like fresh squeezed oranges. So fresh, so inviting. So healthy. Mr. Right and I would treat it like a little date. Somewhere along the way, we came to the decision that “our” order would be a 16 ounce, Strawberry Surf Rider, we would share. It ended up being a cheaper date than two coffees at the local coffee shop.
Fruit, fresh, healthy, less expensive than those sugar laden coffee drinks………………”win”. We felt so great about our healthy, delicious choice. Way, way better than sharing a cotton candy? Of course.
We stopped going to Jamba Juice.
One Saturday morning, Mr. Right tried to pay for our drink with a $50.00 bill. They said they do not accept $50.00’s. That is all the money we had. So we used (which we very rarely use, a debit card.) It has been our practice to pay for things using cash only. So, sadly, Jamba Juice and their policy of not accepting large cash bills, made us re-think our treat choice.
Get this……………….it was their policy about not accepting large bills that made us change our behavior. It was not the healthy 16 ounce smoothie of goodness.
Oh, did I forget to mention that each 16 ounce Strawberry Surf Rider Smoothie has the sugar equivalent of 16 bags of cotton candy?