My grocery cart contains skim milk, black beans and Fiber Buddies, but I pause near the “Seasonal Items” aisle.

Chocolate bunnies. Fifty percent off.

If there’s anything better than chocolate, it’s cheap chocolate.

Focus elsewhere, I tell myself.

Jelly beans help me lose the trance. Because they’re favorites? No. As a kid, I liked them, especially green ones — minty treats like chewing gum, only Mom let me swallow them. Nowadays, jelly beans initiate a decades-old mental playback.

My sister, Jean, and I were sneaking cream-filled cupcakes she’d baked for our get-together. Between us, we had five children, ages six and under. We gladly welcomed the help of our younger brother Ken, the handsome hero of his little nieces and nephews. He swung them, threw balls and told stories about valiant exploits as a Pizza Hut waiter.

My five-year-old wandered in.

I said, “Whatcha need, hon?”

She drew close as if sharing a terrible secret. “Mommy, I don’t want to hurt Uncle Kenny’s feelings. But these jelly beans he gave us hurt my tongue.” She deposited the green, gooey mess into my hand.

Fearlessly, I tasted it. Flames devoured my tongue.

I told Jean, “Ken fed our babies jalapeño jelly beans.”

She motioned me from the window, steaming. Our offspring covered the swing set, green tongues hanging out and eyes crossed.

Before mother fury could send us outside, Ken entered and helped himself to several cupcakes.

“Mmmm.” Ken snarfed two down. “What kind are they?”

My eyes met Jean’s for a brief, telepathic moment. Yes. He deserves it.

“French white-worm-filled,” I told him.

“I got them at the gourmet shop downtown,” Jean deadpanned.

Kenny’s face turned green as the infamous jelly beans. He backed into the bathroom, gagging, while we triumphantly bore cupcakes to our children.

Later, we relished telling him the truth.

Kenny couldn’t believe it. Betrayal! At the hands of his coupon-clipping, Sunday-school-attending big sisters! “You lied to me!”

Jean glared back. “You fed jalapeño jellybeans to my children.”

“Do that again or anything like it,” I said, “and you will die. S-l-o-w-l-y.”

Although twice our size, Ken took a step back.

Decades later, green jelly beans still give me an inner glow. Oooh, sweet revenge.

Some things feel even better than chocolate, 50 percent off.

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Have you ever tasted jalapeño jelly beans?