i had left over candy canes in a cup on the counter.
my granddaughter saw them when she and i were loading the dishwasher.
"grama, can i have a candy cane?" she asked.
my first thought was to wonder if she'd ever had one or knew how to go about eating it.
my second thought was that she'd surely slice her mouth on it if i gave it to her.
so i, being the bad grama that i am, said; "i'm not really sure you should have a candy cane sweetheart."
then she looked at me with huge sad oliver twist asking for more eyes and said in a tiny crackling voice; "but maybe i could just hold one..."
poor little angel.
i deterred her with an offer of an oreo sticks with frosting packet. she seemed happy enough, though surely she was scared far deeper than any slice to her tongue the cane could have ever inflicted.
i am forever the wicked grama of the west