Cotton Candy Memories

No, I'm not an old coot, rocking on my front porch, watching the world go by, and remembering all kinds of stuff way back to my childhood.  I'm out on my back patio.

Not too long ago, our church had a wonderful celebration in which we basically ate lots of good food, enjoyed each other, and spent some time thanking all the people behind the scenes that keep things running.  It was quite a gala celebration, themed somewhat like a circus.  So, there were balloon creations, lots of razzle dazzle, and plenty of popcorn and cotton candy for everyone.

Son Caleb agreed to be the cotton candy chef, and judging by his smiles, enjoyed every minute of it.  I don't even know what the amusement parks charge nowadays for one of those cotton candy poofs, but on this day it was free.  And, you could go back for more, and more, and more.

By the end of the event it appeared that he was wearing as much as he was loading onto those little paper cones.

Although he did his best to make cone after cone of the tasty stuff, the guy in this little video is a true cotton candy artist.  See if you don't agree.

I have a vague recollection - I was just a little girl - of the first time my Dad shared some of his cotton candy with me.  I remember him showing me how to carefully pull off a smallish clump and then stuff the whole thing in my mouth.

What a surprise to find it suddenly gone!  I remember thinking that he had pulled some sort of magic trick on me.

Then he showed me that if you carefully stuff the whole wad into your mouth so that it touches nothing on its way in, you stay sort of clean.  Of course, he reminded me to lick my "grabbing" fingers clean, too.

This girl does not have the hang of eating cotton candy properly.  Maybe she didn't have a fine teacher like I did. No doubt about it, she will truly be a mess when she's all done.

When our four children were youngsters, then, we carefully taught them the fine process of eating cotton candy, continuing the great legacy my father started.

In summers, we would occasionally make an outing to the nearest amusement park, Knoebel's Family Amusement Park, where inevitably the kids would see and want a package of cotton candy.

Although I was one of those mothers that tried my darndest to feed them healthy meals and snacks, the husband/lover/sabotager always promised them EACH a package for the drive home if they behaved during our adventure.  Dangit, they were angelic then.

So, on our way out of the park, we would pass by that stand where the pink, blue, and purple bags of cotton candy were hanging.  With great deliberation each of the kids would decide on a color and then find the biggest bag of that color.

Let me say, it was always a very quiet and relaxing trip home.  Except for a few occasions in which Caleb, the youngest of the four, accidentally stuck his wad into the side of one of his sister's hair.  Then there was hollering and pushing and shoving, and ultimately scary threats from Dad.

By the time we got home from the park, we had four bags with those dead cotton candy crumbs, like this:

There were four baths and head washings that evening, too.

Ahh, memories.  We had lots of fun with our kiddos on those days.

I'm sure the kids went to bed, dreaming of sugar plums gargantuan rolls of cotton candy that don't disappear after two minutes:

Not too long ago, I noticed a foil type package containing cotton candy available for sale in a department store.  That's just not right.  Not the right flavor or look.  No cone nor real cotton candy experience.

There are just some some things in life you shouldn't mess with.