I like jellybeans well enough, but they’re not my go-to sugar fix. I’ll get a bag of Brach’s at Easter, but it’s more out of a sense of duty than a preference (like candy corn at Hallowe’en). It’s the Cadbury creme and mini eggs that are musts for me this time of year when I raid my neighborhood CVS for Easter candy.
However, I love Jellybeans for Breakfast by Miriam Young, first published in 1968. I have the copy I adored as a kid, and from the scribbled-on pages, it appears I was still learning my letters. I also, at some point, tore the cover off.
The story is about two wildly imaginative girls and the fun they dream up during a sleepover. They ride their bikes to the moon, run a flea circus, dress up and drink tea out of acorn cups at a woodland picnic. They even meet the President (who gives them medals and jellybeans—years before it became fashionable in the Regan era!). Naturally, they share bags of jellybeans and after a candlelit dinner with strawberry jam as a soup course, they have them for dessert.
When the friends finally return from all their adventures, both sets of parents welcome them back saying, “But won’t you please stay home? We’re having jellybeans for breakfast.”
In tribute to this charming little book, I still put jellybeans out on my Easter table if I’m hosting the celebration. But more often, I’ll sneak away by myself, reach into a bag of these multi-colored jewels and scarf down an illicit handful on Easter morning.
Won’t you join me in having some jellybeans for breakfast?
Love this. I want to go on their adventures.
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