(Columnist’s note: This is satirical, and shouldn’t indicate I have had serious emotional trauma)

When I grew up, my parents stressed the importance of honesty and integrity. “Tell the truth” and “Do the right thing,” they said. Little did I know I was the biggest sucker the whole time. They routinely lied to my chubby, adolescent face.

None of the lies were serious; hence them being white lies. But at some point enough is enough. As a 24-year-old adult reminiscing on these horrid dishonesties that had little to no impact on my well-being, it’s time for me to take a stand. Maybe if I share my stories about the white lies my mother told me, I can save a younger generation.

The first is about the Halloween Witch. Much like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, my parents taught my sister and I that this mythical being is here to bring gifts. But it would come at a cost.

Every year I had Halloween circled on my calendar. Months of plotting and planning to make sure I have the best costume. I’m not out there to just get the candy; I want to turn heads.

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Every year my sister and I would trudge through the cold Minnesota winds with only my Darth Maul lightsaber to guide us. We went from house-to-house filling our buckets with the finest candy before the night ran out.

After hours of pillaging and slaving over the sweets of Brainerd, Minnesota, we would pour out our buckets in the living room. It was decision-making time.

While many kids have the chance to keep all of their Halloween candy, my sister and I had an alternative opportunity. We could keep our candy, or give some of it to the Halloween Witch. In return, she will reward us with a gift. After all, we were told that she needed the candy to keep her teeth rotten.

Even at a young age, I considered myself the master of the trade. I get to keep 10 pieces of candy and get a top-tier toy? I didn‘t think the Witch knew how good I was at trick-or-treating. I had at least 10 prime candies to keep for myself, and this idiot is going to pay me to take the Almond Joys off my hand? Not to mention, I didn’t want all the candy. I didn’t punish myself in the heavy fall winds only to have it hinder my stamina for next year. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.

On the other hand, my sister dreaded coming home. She wanted the best of both worlds. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too. The process was grueling. There were some long nights in the Rubado household. I’d like to think I’ve had a pretty good life, but watching my sister struggle the way that she did will always hit home.

After hours of deliberation, it was time for bed. Some years this night was harder to get sleep than Christmas Eve. I worked for this present. I risked life and limb for the Halloween Witch. While I believed that the other children feared her, I worshiped her presence for the sake of candy and gifts.

After leaving a large amount of my candy at the front door before I went to bed, I would wake up to a toy in its place. I was a master of the game, or so I thought.

I found out the Halloween Witch wasn’t real at the same time I found out about all of our other God-like figures. However, the story behind the Witch is as ruthless as it gets.

My mom made up the Halloween Witch phenomenon because she didn’t want all of the candy in the house. She didn’t care if we ate it, but she didn’t want it for the sake of her health. My beta-male dad complied and decided to create this grand lie so they could stay healthy.

My parents would get a few of our Christmas gifts early. The more candy we gave up, the better gifts the Witch would leave us. The rest of the toys would be divided out on Dec. 25.

To any mothers reading this, save your family the trauma. It’s not worth it. Let them keep the candy.