Chocolate Hog

I pick up a few items from the store for my oldest son’s Crazy Hair Day at school the next day. The plan is to spike it all up using hair glue then color it blue with colored hair spray. Driving home from school I tell him about this which of course makes him want to inspect the products as soon as we get back. Upon arrival we all stumble out of the car and make our way in. The boys both run straight upstairs to see who can catch the first glimpse. My daughter (21 mos), who takes much longer to make her way up two flights of stairs, holds back at the bottom, hoping for me to carry her. “Come on”, I say “You can do it, follow us up.” Then I bound, up eager to witness my son’s excitement.

I enter the room in time to hear exclamations of “Oh this is so cool!” and “I want to color my hair blue too!” and “I can’t wait, let’s put it on now!”. “Whoa boys” I reply, “All this is for tomorrow, not right now. You’ll have all day long to wear it, don’t worry.” We continue conversing about exactly how we should spike the hair and what it will look like. A few minutes later we’re done and head back downstairs. I never even realize that my daughter has failed to make an appearance.

As I walk down the stairs I spot her. She is all the way across the room, on the far side of the kitchen where our table rests. She has pulled a chair back and climbed up. Her face is crammed so full she is unable to close if fully and she is laboriously chewing as fast as she can. When she looks and sees me she chews even faster.

It is just a few days after Valentine’s Day and our sons both returned from their prospective schools with huge boxes full of candy. These boxes have been temporarily stored at one end of our kitchen table. This is where my daughter is now. I see candy wrappers, at least five, strewn about the table in front of her. She has a chocolate trickle running down her face and onto her shirt and she is in the middle of unwrapping yet another chocolate heart.

“Stop!” I yell. “No more candy! Do not put that piece in your mouth!” She eyes me and ever so slowly begins to move her hand, which is desperately clutching the candy, upward toward her mouth. “I said no more.” I say in a low, even tone. I am not messing around. “Put it down”. She continues her slow movement, intent on snabbing just one more bite of yummy. What, does she think if she moves slowly I won’t see her? “Put it down now. That’s enough.” This whole time I am approaching her as I descend the stairs and cross the kitchen. I reach her just in time to snatch the chocolate piece out of her hand as she is about to jam it into her already over-crowded mouth.

My question is, how long did it take her to hatch this plan? Did she make a run for it as soon as I bolted up the stairs? Or did she sit and ponder for a second. “I don’t want to climb the stairs. It takes me forever. By the time I reach the top they’ll all be coming back down again. It happens every day. What should I do? Wait here or begin my climb? Aha! I know! The candy! They left all the precious candy at the table. If I hurry….”

Well regardless of the thought process, hurry she did. We were only away from her for about five minutes, max. Her mouth was so full it was comical. I wanted to burst out laughing. She looked like a cute, blonde chipmunk! I can’t blame her though. Anyone who knows me can surely attest to the fact that she is indeed my daughter. I would have done the same, I think. Chocolate is my great weakness.