A Letter to My Daughter

Dear Daughter,

If you’re reading this, you’re finally old enough to know the truth. Or you’ve figured out how to disable parental controls, which means I can’t keep anything from you anyway.

First, please know that I love you. What you’re about to read will raise many questions, and you may begin to doubt all that you know about me. Never doubt that I love you, despite the terrible secret I’ve been keeping from you. Despite all that I’ve done without your knowledge for all these years.

You’re old enough to suspect that something is not quite right. I’ve been afraid that you will figure it out on your own one day. Frankly, it’s a bit surprising that you haven’t reached this conclusion on your own. The evidence has been right in front of you for years.

OK, here goes.

I’ve been eating your candy.

This comes as a great shock, I know, and you’re tempted to reject the idea. Just ask yourself a few questions.

  • Doesn’t it seem like your Halloween, Valentine’s, and Easter candy doesn’t last as long as it should? It’s a huge bag. Shouldn’t it last more than a day or two?
  • Why do you always seem to have so few Starburst, Butterfinger, and Skittles? Heck, have you even tasted a Butterfinger? I’m pretty sure I eat all of them first.
  • Don’t you wonder why your little brother acts so confused when you accuse him of taking your candy? Usually, he’s all “No, no, it wasn’t me!”, not “Why would I do that? Won’t the firemen be mad?”

I am so, so sorry to have betrayed your trust in this way. I hope you’ll forgive me. Also, I hope that you’ll tell me where you’ve hidden your candy.

Your loving father

P.S. Please don’t tell your brother that we aren’t giving his candy to firemen as thanks for their bravery.

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