Ah, the M&M.

Wondrous product. Doesn’t melt in your hand. No one wants that. However, I hear from a solid source that it will melt in your mouth.

Don’t store them there.

They have attractive colors. And of course, there’s the familiar microburst of chocolate, which is a perfect complement to the candy coating.

I like the noise they make when you shake them in the bag. I like the colors. The green ones, we all know, have an alleged side effect. Other colors haven’t been studied, since the effect of the green ones seems to have satisfied arm-chair scientists on this topic.

I have long had an affinity for this product and love to share it. I love to see the look in people’s eyes, a spark of happiness when they see me coming with a huge open bag of the treat.

M&Ms are magic, I tell ya.

Name another such candy. Candy corn might be a second-place item, and Hershey’s Kisses are a nearly irresistible snack.

But M&Ms rule. And you shouldn’t hoard them. If you have the goods, get on with sharing them. This is a habit of mine. I buy a big bag, eat more than I need, then share the rest.

On occasion, I’ll walk around the building giving them out. (I get paid for this.) Very few don’t greet me with a hand extended, curled into a cup to receive, smile included.

There are some who are dismissive of this gift. I wonder about those people. I’m convinced they are wondering about me as well.

Anyway, on the giveaway trips around the office, some data has been recorded. Evidently, each person has a rough count of how many they want. Some say “when” at about five; others nearly drain the bag unless I decide to cap the offer.

Someone asked me the other day why I do such things. I have a contract with a local dentist. I get paid by the cavity. Snack kickbacks. It’s legal, though maybe immoral.

I’m not alone by any means in this passion. My pastor shares this M&M infatuation, though I’ve never discussed it with him. I’m certain he knows they are magic. And believe me, this man shares good news; I’m not certain if he’s that generous with his candy stash, but he has preached on the M&M.

At any rate, there are some recommendations if you take up this habit. My five-star dental hygienist recently advised me to buy an electric toothbrush. I bought one, a model that did not require payments, and am now deep in the throes of a five-times-a-day brushing habit.

Gotta counterpunch the sugar.

And overindulgence can lead to addiction.

Be careful

Now you can’t elicit fleeting happiness by giving away just any candy. The reaction of those offered an M&M is unlike the one that greets a giver of, say, Circus Peanuts. Not that there’s anything wrong with this fluffy candy. But it’s a love-hate relationship that people have with the orange, cushy glob.

The reaction is either a recoil in horror – “For the love of God, put those away!” Or, a quick: “Thanks. I remember those when I was a kid.”

Those who don’t like Circus Peanuts, by the way, evidently have some psychological scar associated with the memory of the old-fashioned snacks, which are still available for those of you keeping score at home. It’s the texture, I believe, that creeps people out.

I happen to like them. I remember buying them as a kid from our neighborhood grocery store. (They don’t make neighborhood stores anymore.)

That is all. Talk amongst yourselves.

— Andy Dennis is assistant managing editor of the Daily News. He recently was tricked into eating a habanero. He was told it was candy. He is devising revenge.