Sap Picking and other Yooper Delicacies

I've been hearing about Yooper Bars for some time now, and I have to admit that every time they've been mentioned, I've had this image float through my mind of some granola-berry combination of weighty magnitude, hearty, rustic, as flavorful as the U.P. itself.

Today was the day. Yesterday evening one of my students triumphantly pounced in front of me, waving a mysterious looking flat package before my eyes. "Has anyone hit you yet?" She questioned, the prize still dangling in front of me from her fingertips. No, no one had and so on the condition that I would pay soon, she left it on my desk.

Sometime before lunch today my other students spotted it, and one sly fifth grader slunk over and made as if to pilfer it. But he was the same one who told the class later that they ought to watch me as I ate it, to see what transformation I would undergo. They couldn't all agree on what that transformation might entail. Yooper expressions? Yooper loyalties? But it was my eight grade wordsmith who put it in just the right manner. "Miss Knott," she said, allowing one giggle to escape, "This Yooper Bar will give you the ineffable desire to say 'yous guys.'"

I suppose the night is yet young and we shall see what the morrow brings. But at the moment, even after peeling and demolishing the melt in your mouth chocolate Yooper Bar, "yous guys" still sends shivers down my spine, shivers that not even the Yooper delight of "picking sap" would alleviate. I guess I'm just too used to collecting it--instead, I can imagine each transparent droplet, tremulously waiting at the end of the spout to be chosen and placed lovingly in a bucket, like a blueberry nestled amongst its fellows.