Heeding the advice of medical authorities, I took my 6 1/2 year old son to the pediatrician about a week before Halloween, to get him the flu vaccine early in the season. When I turned around after I checked in, I saw my son sneaking away from the lollipop bowl to "hide" some artificially dyed forbidden treats in his book bag. Not daring to increase his obsession with pretty sweet things by making it an emotionally charged issue, I took the occasion to joke about it with him. A few minutes later, my son received the flu mist in a chair located about two inches from a another bowl of Halloween candy. He couldn’t resist and indulged in a package of Twizzlers.

I could have said no, but taking my child to the doctor is stressful enough. Physically restraining him to keep him from the lollipop bowl; or stealing away his loot after he gleefully beat me to it, is hardly a way to make the doctor’s visit less traumatic. If I threaten him with loss of privileges, I risk ruining the evening for both of us, all because of an ill-placed bowl of candy.

Having a big fight will only make candy more alluring.

Though good parenting often means enduring physically and emotionally draining tantrums without giving in, taking a stand isn’t always the best option. I need to consider his residual feelings about visiting the doctor. It is not a place where I want to engage in an unnecessary battle, because getting a child to submit to invasive procedures when they’re sick is hard enough.

My son’s future self was sitting on my shoulders as I quickly ran through my options. Will I be there when he’s 13 and walks into a store with his own money to buy himself a treat? Will he be more likely to make the better choice after I’ve wrestled candy out of his hands or if I choose to treat it like it’s no big deal? Do I really want to add the thought, “this will drive my Mom crazy and there’s nothing she can do to stop me ha ha ha,” to the arsenal of the sugar craving demons in his head?

Though I offer naturally colored and flavored lollipops, turning a blind eye to the sugar, my little rebel is certain that the worse it is for him, the better it tastes. So instead of taking a stand, I grit my teeth and send my child a confusing mixed message: I'm scared for you to be ingesting these dangerous chemicals. I don’t believe they’re safe, but I'm not going to stop you. And, each time I allow it, I’m a little less true to my own values as a parent, and my son and I both know it.

Chime in! How do you navigate the candy bowl at the doctors office?