The more I’m around children, the more I’m convinced that candy is cocaine for kids. It’s addictive (or seems that way), it gives them a burst of frenzied energy and then they crash. It also makes them crazed and irresponsible.

Last Halloween, as we were trick-or-treating, my daughter began to run into the street to get to the next house. I asked her to wait, and she swiveled, snarling, “You don’t tell me what to do.” Her eyes were several times their normal size and seemed to be pulsating.” Following Hunter S. Thompson’s advice, “Never turn your back on a drug,” I didn’t make any sudden moves until I could talk her down and get the bag away from her.

Considering sugar’s obvious effects, it’s baffling the bucketfuls we throw at children. Candy isn’t just for holidays, birthdays and major events; it’s a daily fact of life. When I take Noelle on errands, she’s offered it by secretaries, receptionists, cashiers, bank tellers—everyone we meet. There are even bowlfuls in doctors’ offices and on teachers’ desks. It seems to have become the fundamental ingredient for interactions with children.

I’m wary of “when-I-was-young” codger sentiments, but I honestly don’t remember this being the case growing up. It never would have occurred to my teachers to give candy. (I went to Catholic schools, and they gave demerits and detentions because they had been legally barred from giving the ruler on the palm of the hand.)

One of the oddest changes, for me, has been parades. Until last Fourth of July, I hadn’t been to one for decades. I was shocked to find every float, car, and participant tossing out candy and kids running into the road to get it, regardless of whether a fire-truck or semi might be coming. I thought this parade might be special, and then, at Christmas, it happened again.

I wonder if adults offer so much sugar because we want it ourselves. The children are an excuse. After all, a huge amount of Halloween candy is consumed “in house.” I also wonder if it may be similar to the thrill of feeding animals at a zoo. “Look, did you see that? She took a piece right out of my hand.” And, of course, people want to be liked, especially by children. We may not admit it, but some of us have a superstitious belief that kids, like dogs, can detect good and evil.

Although I try to limit my children’s intake of sugar, as with so many aspects of parenting, I’ve found strangers don’t hesitate to disregard my wishes. At the grocery, I give Noelle a bread sample. A staff member says, “Oh she won’t want that. I’ll go get her a cookie.” I ask her not to, but she does anyway. I thank her, palm it so Noelle doesn’t see it, and in the frozen foods aisle, jam it into my mouth. At Costco, a woman tells me to give Noelle a sample of chocolate cake. I politely explain that she doesn’t need one. The woman insists. I again decline. She follows me along the aisle repeating, “You need to give that little girl a treat!” I take the sample she’s been jamming towards me and say, “No, but I’ll give the Big Girl—my wife—one.” The woman responds, “She’ll have to share it.” She continues to trail me, and finally I cave in. “Okay, okay.” She watches closely to make sure I feed it to Noelle then leaves with a smug smile. I’m furious at my cowardice and finish the shopping in a restrained rage resisting the urge to go force-feed the woman an entire cake.

I’m particularly sensitive to this issue because I have an enormous sweet tooth. For Christmas, my sister, brother and I would be given cans of whipped cream and we would spend the morning squirting it directly into our mouths. We rarely baked cookies, although we often made the dough, which we simply ate from the bowl. Since we considered icing to be the best part of the cake, one day my mother decided to get rid of the boring part and make a “frosting cake.” She filled a pan with icing, turned it upside-down and divided it up. It was hard to get down, but that didn’t stop us from eating it all. Perhaps not surprisingly we have struggled with our weight and “body image” our entire lives.

I don’t deny all sweets to my children, but when I read statistics detailing the astounding increases in childhood obesity, diabetes, and other weight-related problems, I think she probably can do without that second cookie. If I have to, I’ll eat it myself. And all her Halloween candy too. That’s how much I love her.

Joe Mills teaches at the North Carolina School of the Arts. He has written “A Guide to North Carolina’s Wineries” with his wife Danielle Tarmey. Mills’ most recent book of poetry is “Angels, Thieves and Winemakers.”