I’m starting to enjoy peanut M&Ms and I am a little embarrassed about it.

My natal family is an M&M family. My grandma loved plain M&Ms, my mom loves plain M&Ms. Plain M&Ms were my toddlerhood potty training reward and my little brother famously referred to them as “num nums” for many years. I still put about 10-15 of them in the tiny dessert section of my own kids’ bento boxes when I pack school lunches.

And then there’s peanut butter M&Ms. I still remember the first time I had peanut butter M&Ms. It must have been 1992 or 1993 and I was at the local waterpark with my friend Brie. We sat in the grass and smashed the peanut butter M&Ms into our knees before eating them (why???). They were delicious, and my love of peanut butter M&Ms has not diminished since that beautiful day.

But peanut M&Ms? They’re terrible. You might as well just eat stupid peanuts, which are the second least enjoyable nut unless converted into butter form. For years we have discarded all those little yellow peanut M&M bags my kids get while trick or treating. But this year I found myself pulling them out of the bowl of rejected candy one by one.

“Ah,” I would think to myself. “A nice little protein and chocolate snack! And not too sweet! Perfect!”

Is this what happens to all old people? Sweet things become too sweet? You realize you only have so much enjoyment of the world left before death and you want to stretch it out as much as possible by only eating crap candy?

Grey hair I was prepared for. Sagging body parts, yes, I knew this was coming. But appreciation for peanut M&Ms? Someone should have warned me.