My mum was so determined to ensure I wasn’t obsessed with sugar that she used to let me have one Smartie a week. That’s not a joke or exaggeration; it’s genuinely a fact. A friend of hers who once witnessed the sacred handing over of the tiny chocolate told me recently that the saddest thing about it was how pathetically grateful I was.

And now, of course, I am obsessed with sugar – I don’t merely have a sweet tooth, but the full set. The other consequence of my mum’s well-intentioned strictness is that I’ve gone the opposite way with my son. I’m extremely relaxed about him having treats; we have a cupboard at home full of them, which he can help himself to whenever he likes. And the upshot of this is that he’s not that bothered about them, which will probably make him really stringent with his own children, if he has any. And so the skipping-a-generation cycle will continue.

As this is parenting in 2026, obviously there’s a term for my sweet strategy: move over helicopters and tigers, apparently I’m a “Gummy Bear Mum”. This is a mother who lets her offspring eat what they want and is unapologetic about it – her home is stocked with crisps and ice cream; she believes life is to be enjoyed, so eat what makes you happy. There are caveats: “Gummy Bear Mum’s” kids aren’t allowed unhealthy snacks round the clock, all day, every day, and she balances out their diet with nutritious meals, but there’s nothing that’s a total no-go like it was in my childhood.

I have to admit, I didn’t know my “Gummy Bear” status would be so controversial, but it has got me into some sticky situations. When I took my son for his first haircut at a local children’s hairdresser, the stylist pulled me to the side and whispered in my ear at the end. I steeled myself for something outrageous, but she just asked if he was allowed a lollipop as a reward for sitting still. I said yes, but must have been visibly puzzled, because she clarified: “Some of the children who come here have never eaten sugar before so we have to be careful.” I should have taken that as a clue of what was to come.

You can tell a lot about people’s attitudes around this issue from the recent Oreos incident – screenshots of a class WhatsApp group that went viral. The gist was one mum asking another not to let their child have Oreos in their lunchbox, because it made the OP’s daughter upset that she wasn’t allowed them in her lunchbox. I completely bought it – it’s not even the most ridiculous request I’ve seen on a parents’ group chat – though it turned out to be fake.

The divide here is huge and, frustratingly, often unspoken. I once gave a kid on a playdate spaghetti bolognaise for dinner, with a scoop of chocolate ice cream for pudding. His mum sent me the most pass-agg thank you message I’ve ever received afterwards, saying how much he’d enjoyed being at our house, especially because until today he’d never had white pasta, or ice cream in his whole life.

When she hosted the playdate return leg a few weeks afterwards, she sent me regular texts: is it ok if my son has an apple, if it is ok if he has grated cheese on his (wholemeal, obv) pasta? Is this what I was meant to have done when her boy was at my home? I felt so shamed and really questioned myself as a mum: this was beyond allowing treats.

We always had brown bread rather than white but I’d never thought twice about white pasta. She also made a dig about processed food, although the spag bol was cooked from scratch. Did it not count because the spaghetti wasn’t homemade in a roller pasta machine in our kitchen, as well as being the wrong colour? Where is the line here? Should I also have killed the cow with my bare hands for the bolognaise?

Wailing to a friend, she told me about a girl from her daughter’s class who had arrived for a playdate with Tupperware boxes of food and snacks, and a bag of vitamin pills, politely refusing everything she was offered. She sat at the table with the family as they ate pizza for dinner, miserably munching a plastic container of salad, and it was every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds.

Overall, as with most things in life, moderation is probably the answer here. One sweet a week is too little; access all areas to the cake aisle too much. If you have culinary no-go areas for your kids and they’re off for a playdate, tell the parents clearly, in advance.

Of course I wouldn’t have broken that other mum’s boundaries if I knew they existed (although I might now, after she was so mean about it). Communication is key, and we should be worrying about what’s happening in our own houses rather than judging how others are doing it. Then we can all be “Smartie Mums” and live healthily ever after.