Tiny Chocoholic

In the early days of having two little girls I had a lot of guilt as well as a lot of exhaustion. It’s a shame how none of the pregnancy books ever tell you how much guilt you can feel as a mom. There were days that I would cry to the hubs because I was so busy with our newborn that I couldn’t remember if I had hugged E all day long. My very loving husband would do his best to reassure me that I was a good mom and thanked me every night for taking such good care of the girls. If I hadn’t been so tired my insecurities may not have been so prevalent but I was exhausted and that’s how the chocolate chip incident of 2005 happened.

Hubs woke me up to tell me that he was leaving for work and that our E was awake and watching cartoons. At least he thought I was awake, I wasn’t and promptly rolled over the second he walked out of our room thus leaving our two year old…alone…with an open bag of chocolate chips. On a side note: I rarely drink and do not smoke, instead I like to “un-wind” with chocolate. Therefore I ALWAYS keep a bag of chocolate chips in my house. While there may be days that we run out of milk or bread, we rarely run out of chocolate chips as this is how I keep my level of sanity in check. Because I was so tired the night before, I left the bag sitting on our end table in the living room.

I woke up, in a state of panic, remembering something about E being awake and realizing that she’d been up alone for at least ten minutes. I ran in to our living room and found her sitting on the couch watching cartoons. Whew! And then she waved to me… with a hand full of melted chocolate. She said “hi mom!” with the biggest, most chocolately grin one has ever seen. Her hands were covered in chocolate; there were literally chunks of chocolate between each one of her fingers. As my eyes began to focus I could really see the damage that had been done. There was chocolate streaked up both of her legs, there was chocolate all over her mouth, there was chocolate in her hair and don’t even get me started on the couch. Oh the couch, our poor, poor couch. I didn’t even know where to start the cleaning process. I started a bath and carried her through the house to prevent any further chocolate spreadage. Believe me when I tell you that the actual bath water turned brown.

This is the day I realized that chocoholics produce little chocoholics and so I won’t be surprised when someday E has a bag of chocolate chips in her house even if she has little else.

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