Chocaholic

My oldest, Natalie, succombed early to a family disease...

Chocaholism.

I think it might strike Michaela Byrd as well, but the jury is out.

Any time our mailbox is graced with a child's birthday party invitation, I hear the same question.

"Will 'dere be cake?" If there is, and if it is chocolate, you've made her day.

Come to think of it, she looks for cake at just about any formal (or informal) occasion: weddings, barbeques, school parties, MOPS meetings, trips to the grocery, you name it. 

Cake, ice cream, cupcakes, muffins, cookies...I feel very grateful that she seems to have been blessed with a metabolism from her father's side of the family. Sweets are a rare thing in our house (for the kids, hehe), reserved for special occassions. I like to offer a sugar free popsicle or sugar free (chocolate!) pudding as a reward for eating all of her vegetables and making a real effort with the rest of the meal. As of yet, she has not noticed any difference between those treats and the "good stuff." She thinks Jell-O's sugar free chocolate pudding is heaven on earth!

My mother (Mimi, she is called in our house) is a real handicap in my efforts to steer my kids away from Chocaholism. Because she sneaks little cookies and pieces of chocolate to Natalie, the child has reverted to behavior that mirrors Pavlov's dogs. When she sees Mimi's car pull into the driveway, she rips the front door open.

"Hiiii, Mimi!" she shouts, as Michaela Byrd bounces up and down beside her. "Do you have any "tweets" for me?"

Mimi is somewhat perturbed that her presence has come to signify a showering of desserts, but it's her own fault, I think. 

I was feeling some major cabin fever yesterday, so when the girls finished their dinner, I asked if they'd like to run to Baskin Robbins to get some ice cream to bring home. Of course the answer

was yes (from Natalie. Michaela Byrd was busy figuring out a way to scale the sideboard to reach the dog water), and after an hour of getting shoes and coats on, finding my coupon, loading them in and out of the car, and spooning half melted ice cream into a cone, we were done with our ice cream adventure. Natalie held up her hands. 

"Are my fingers clean?" she asked. They were smudged with chocolate ice cream. 

"No, let's wipe them off." I said, getting up from the table to grab a wet paper towel.

"Noooo...but I licked them!"

There you have it. That could totally be my Thrifty Thursday post for this week. Who needs paper towels when you can just lick your hands clean? Plus, it's thrifty 'cause you are saving some for later. Right.

Let them eat cake! (I think she and Marie Antoinette would have gotten along just fine) First experience with cake. It's so wrong, yet so right.

I don't know who this kid is, or how her picture got on my blog. Her parents should be ashamed of themselves for letting her eat cake like that. 

If I had a goatee, I'd want it to be made out of chocolate too.