Sweet Freedom for Mitchell P2

Yo, I tried to get Mitchell to come with me to the candy shop today. I mean, it’s kinda our thing, right? But today, he wasn’t feeling it. He was chillin’ at home, doing his own thing in those cute little kid shorts he always wears, his pamper peeking out just barely at the waistband. It’s classic Mitchell, ya know?

Anyway, I didn’t want to come back empty-handed, so I went all out. I’m talkin’ hundreds of dollars on candy—like, every kind you can think of. I’m not even kidding, man, the cashier had to double-bag it all. Got everything from sour strips and gummy worms to peanut butter cups and those big candy lollipops.

When I got back, Mitchell's eyes lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. He was all over it. He started tearing into every bag like it was Christmas morning. One minute, he’s downing chocolate bars like water; the next, he’s got a whole mouthful of chewy, colorful gummies. It wasn’t even about the candy for him—it’s how much he LOVES just being in the moment, just living.

By tonight? Guarantee he’s devouring every last piece for dinner. And you know what? Who cares, man? Watching Mitchell happily crunch and munch his way through a mountain of candy—giggles and all—makes it worth every penny. Some people might not get it, but that’s their loss. Mitchell’s joy is all that matters, and his world is way sweeter because of it.

But, of course, Mitchell being Mitchell, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. About halfway through his candy feast, he hit a bit of a snag. He had this giant sour gummy stuck in his teeth and was struggling to chew it. You could see his little face scrunch up—part frustration, part determination. He wasn’t giving up, though. That’s just not his style. But after another minute of trying, he looked over at me with those wide eyes, silently asking for help. It was adorable and kind of heartbreaking at the same time.

I scooted over, grabbed the gummy from his hand, and broke it into smaller pieces. “Here, bud, try it like this,” I said, handing it back to him in bite-sized chunks. His face lit up instantly, and he popped one in his mouth with a soft giggle. From there, it became our little partnership—I’d break up the bigger candies, and he’d do the very serious job of eating them. We even made a game out of it, seeing how many bites it took for him to finish each piece. Before long, not only was he happily munching away again, but he also made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to stop helping. By the end of the night, the mountain of candy was nearly gone, and Mitchell? Totally content, with sticky fingers, a chocolate-streaked face, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Moments like these are the sweetest, no pun intended.

The next morning, it was clear the candy feast had left its mark. Mitchell woke up with remnants of his late-night sugar adventure still smeared across his face—a tiny chocolate smudge on his cheek and a neon green patch from some rogue sour candy staining the edge of his lips. “Morning, buddy,” I said, ruffling his hair as he blinked up at me with a hazy, post-candy-coma grin.

I expected him to slow down after the sheer scale of last night’s feast, but nope—Mitchell was already eyeing the candy bags we’d left on the counter. “Candy?” he asked, tilting his head with that hopeful little look he does that’s impossible to resist. “How are you not full from last night?” I teased, but I couldn't say no. I pulled one of the smaller bags off the counter and handed it to him, knowing better than to argue with Mitchell and his supreme devotion to all things sweet.

We spent the morning unwrapping and sharing more candy—Mitchell sampling each piece like a mini connoisseur. His world was simple, filled with sour, sweet, and everything in between, and honestly? Watching him live in that pure moment of joy reminded me why I keep these traditions alive. It’s not about the candy. It’s about him, about us, about turning ordinary days into sugary, unforgettable memories.

If you were at the candy store, what would you pick out for Mitchell? Would it be something classic, like chocolate bars or gummy bears, or would you go for something wild and colorful, like a giant rainbow lollipop or sour belts? And once you got back, how would you convince Mitchell to try it? Would you turn it into a game, or maybe even a candy tasting adventure? Describe how you’d make him light up with joy—because with Mitchell, it’s not just about what he eats, but how you share the moment together.