This Is How We Enjoy Easter Peeps

Easter Peeps are cute, crystalized, sugary bits of yuck. As a general rule, I don’t eat marshmallows straight or covered in sugar. If I eat a marshmallow, it’s between two graham crackers and covered in a melted Hershey bar, or pretending to be river foam on top of a Mississippi Mud Cake. If I’m going to eat candy with absolutely no redeeming quality (Chocolate isn’t included as it has free radical fighting antioxidants and it keeps Mommy from losing her mind.), I prefer Skittles, or Sour Gummy Life Savers, or cinnamon discs or butterscotch. Marshmallows? Meh. The rest of my household feels pretty much the same about marshmallows.

Yet, somehow we always have a package of Peeps lying around at Easter. And we keep them until they are petrified because they are too cute to throw away. This time Ella picked them out to include in a goody bag for me at the hospital. When I offered her one, her response was, “Meh.”

I’ve been letting them live in the candy bowl for a few weeks, and the other night Dave asked what we were going to do with them. I told him to throw them away. He said he would – after they played a game with them.

Then, as I cleaned up the kitchen, he and the kids proceeded to sing a modified version of “Little Bunny Foo-foo Hopping through the Forest” while bopping those Peeps to oblivion. And laughing. Luke could barely contain himself; he thought it was so funny.

Scooping up the Peep chicks.

Turning Little Bunny Foo Foo into a goon.

Not entirely sure those Peeps aren't alive since they jump around when bopped.

Completely engrossed in the game.

By the time they were done squishing them, they were small enough to fit in Dave’s fist. I probably should have given them to someone in need – but does anyone need Peeps? Does anyone actually eat Peeps?