My friend Jade came over last night with a lovely box of French style chocolates. You know, in the pretty shapes and a pretty box and tissue and ribbon and the oh-so-very-pretty flavors. Chance was still up when she visited, got to check out the box in full, and I even gave him a small bite of the dark chocolate Valencia before he went to bed. Which he, surprisingly, enjoyed quite a bit. (I just don’t figure most kids would like the more bitter, dark chocolate flavors.) Later that night I moved the box out of immediate sight to a place better suited to my enjoyment (i.e. on to the shelf of "mommy treats").
This morning Chance wakes up, runs to the front room, and I hear…
"Oh no! My chocolates!"
Eeerrrt. His chocolates?
Shit. "Oh well… um… Jade brought those over for ALL of us. To share. See, they’re right here. But chocolates aren’t for breakfast kiddo." (Except for mommy.) "You can have a treat later, OK?"
I couldn’t very well tell him I wasn’t going to share at this point, could I? Maybe he’ll take a Dove chocolate instead.
At least he’s got good taste. – wg