After every Halloween, Mom would take us to the airport where they’d offer to X-ray bags of candy to check for razors and tacks and other dangerous items.
The security people never found anything in the candy.
Then Mom would give us each some of the candy.
But then, some of it wasn’t what we’d actually gotten from the neighborhood.
Full-sized Snickers and Three Musketeers bars?
“I don’t remember getting these, do you?” I asked my brothers.
They didn’t care. Bigger was better.
I didn’t eat any. Which is why I survived.
Don’t take candy from strangers.
Or family, either.