I don't know about you, but I stayed gettin' popped in church as a child. I was always talkin' too loud, WHISPERING too loud, playin' under the pews, running when I should've been walking in the sanctuary. My Grandma was an OG and she was never too scared to get up from the choir, walk all the way down into the congregation, and snatch somethin' up.
And by something, I mean my lil bad ass.
Every time I got in trouble, the Church Mother would always give me 2 pieces of peppermint candy with a "Here ya go, Baby" and the sweetest understanding smile. She already knew what was in store for me when my Grandma got me alone. By the time we got home from church, I had 398 pieces of peppermint in my lil pocketbook and the scent was permanently stuck in there. Not sure where it comes from, but there's also a tiny whiff of Andes chocolate hanging around in the air.