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My true confession — Raspberry Zingers

The other day at the grocery store my son happened upon something new to him — Raspberry Zingers.

You know the ones from our childhood — usually with the Peanuts gang on the box, processed cake with white cream inside covered with a raspberry gel/frosting/substance/who-knows-what and coated in little flakes of coconut and according to 6-year-old me - freakishly delicious.

Raspberry Zingers are something I have avoided for decades now as a self-declared “foodie.” In hindsight, I realize what I should have done at the grocery store was explain to my son that the Zingers weren’t good for us (i.e. me) and probably suggest some fruit or something instead and reject the sinful food.

Instead, I tossed them in the cart with a very slight grin on my face. Raspberry Zingers!! For my kid, of course!

We got home and my husband helped me unpack.

“What are these?” he asks as he pulls the Zingers out.

“He wanted them,” I explained quickly.

“I don’t know that I have ever had one of these,” my husband states (all high and mighty like).

My guard came down, “You haven’t! They really are so good. I loved them as a kid,” I admitted.

“Hmm,” he answers skeptically.

A little later, my son asked for one and I unwrapped the red delicacy in front of him and handed it to him. He takes a huge bite, and I wait for him to rave and to validate my palate.

“UCK!” he yells. “There is cream in there, why would they put cream inside? And what is this hairy stuff on the outside?” (My sister also used to call it coconut hair…)

“You don’t like it?” I asked him sheepishly while eying my husband out of the corner of my eye… he was smirking.

“No way,” he says. “Icky!”

Maybe they had changed? I grabbed it and took a bite.

Nope. They haven’t changed the recipe in 30 years. Still absolutely delicious.

My husband took a bite and quickly declared, “Gag, they are all yours.”

Mmmmm… Raspberry Zingers!

I have to savor them since blaming my son and stating any future boxes are actually for him would be about as transparent as a window. Once this box is gone, that is it. No more.

That is until my daughter in a year or two eyes them at her level at the grocery store and suggests that we need them…

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