Little Man has a notion about Jelly Beans. Or, as he calls them, Jelly Bellies. He started talking about them occasionally, he would spot them in the store and ask about them.
I’m guessing it’s from one of the BBC cartoons on his regular rotation -Peppa Pig, Charlie & Lola, maybe.
Wherever they came from, Jelly Bellies had definitely arrived in the toddler zeitgeist.
Of course, dude couldn’t eat them -corn and sugar and all kindsa things to twist his little tummy into knots. But this is 2015, in a left-leaning metropolitan area. So we asked at the Wedge Coop if there was a corn/gluten free option. It evolved into a saga of emails and check-ins that lasted almost a month, the details of which I’ll spare you. The conclusion, eventually, revealed itself to be that the fru-fru organic jelly candies not dissimilar to beans were, in fact, safe for him to eat.
This was, needless to say, exciting news.
And so the following Monday, he tried one. He said he liked it. He spat it out and gave the rest of them to mama.
He asked to get some the following week. He sort of licked one, said he liked it, and gave the rest to mama.
He still wants to get them. He still insists he really likes Jelly Bellies.
He does the same thing with chocolate cake.
I can’t really blame him. He likes the idea of Jelly Bellies, not so much the execution. We all have those things that appeal in concept more than reality: jazz flute, that third pint of imperial stout, the Iraqi invasion. All seem like wonderful ideas until you’re actually stuck with them.
But this may be one of those times we can afford to let him live the lie. We don’t buy them anymore, so it’s not like there’s any evidence to contradict him any more. Let him believe in his love of Jelly Bellies, for all I care. If nothing else the whole deal has given me and the mama some early proof that our efforts to keep him from a sweet tooth might actually be working.