Sometimes, to spice up breakfast a little for our three-year-old E, we put a few semi-sweet chocolate chips into his mini-bowl of Cheerios or Shreddies, which he eats dry. Finding them is just as much of a treat as eating them, it seems.
This morning, as I was putting the baby sister down for her morning nap, she was just falling asleep when I heard a distinctive crinkling and clicking sound that I immediately intuited was my preschooler getting into the chocolate chips. He has never taken the bag off the counter by himself before, but you know… at this age, independence is growing like a thistle. Height, too.
I went into the kitchen to find that he had filled his mini-bowl with approximately 1/3 of a cup of chocolate chips. I was like, “Whoa!! Buddy. This is not breakfast. What are you doing?”
He wasn’t even being covert about it. “I’m having chocolate chips!” Kind of charming, the way he’s still honest. And heaven knows I relate to his desire to eat chocolate for breakfast. But I quickly hijacked the bowl. No need to find out what that much chocolate does to a three-year-old.
Now, I can’t remember exactly how this part came out, but he said something about having “two of them”. I had to clarify, “Two chocolate chips? Or… two bowls?” He confirmed that yes, he had indeed already eaten a bowlful.
Aghh. #motheroftheyear, baby.
So I sat down with him, and unaccusingly tried to glean the truth. “So, I’m going to ask you something, and you tell me if it’s right, okay?” (We often have to prep him for a conversation like this, otherwise there’s no guarantee he’ll be listening whatsoever.) “So, you filled up your bowl and ate those chocolate chips.”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“And then you filled it up again, so you had two bowls?”
“No. That’s not right.”
Okay. Well, could be worse.
Then, somehow, as the conversation continued, it was worse. Because suddenly he was saying something about three bowls. (Technically, he wasn’t lying about the two bowls, then…)
“Wait – three?? Are you saying you had three bowls of chocolate chips? So, is this” – indicating the hijacked serving – “number three or number four??”
“That’s number four, Mama,” he replied matter-of-factly.
At this point, I was basically dumbstruck. Also, I couldn’t speak because I had to smother the laughter threatening to erupt. Seriously, what do you say in this situation? “I appreciate your candour,” or something?
So I just stifled my giggles and put the remaining stimulants away.
Weirdly enough, he seemed very much himself for the rest of the day – no more hyper than usual. He must be a natural chocolate-eater… or fabricating all this in order to to tell Mama an exciting imaginary story about breakfast… but I don’t actually hold out much hope for the latter – he’s too forthright. And I know it’s not that he lost count; he’s an excellent counter.
I think tomorrow we might avoid the chocolate altogether.
On the bright side, please note that my daughter’s navel is like a perfectly-shaped snail shell.
Also, she is Supergirl. (YEAH she is.)
And she dominates when it comes to tummy-time.
That is all. Good night, Di-hards.
***
[subscribe2]
Love the honesty! After all, you give him chocolate chips, he doesn’t get as much as he wants, he gets more, he eats them, he tells you – what could be simpler? I’m sure you handled it just right.
Nice navel.
That is about the most Beautious Belly Button ever! Lucky girl!! It’ll look charming with a piercing when she’s 14… uh 16… uh… old enough to not give her mama a heart attack.
And, if letting your wee one get away with eating a cup or so of chocolate chips constitutes the worst parenting mistake you make THIS WEEK, you’re doing ok in my books. No, not the most balanced breakfast, but if that’s all it took to get that “Parent of the Year” raspberry, I’d have a shelf full of ’em!
Hope to see you at the Pampered Chef party tomorrow night! Thank you for the lead! Much appreciated!
Michelle – Hahaha! Yeah, you’re right about the piercing (although my navel is unpierced, it would be hard for me to object to belly bling, as a belly dancer). Thanks for the encouragement and empathy – and for the Pampered Chef experience! (Thank goodness those bamboo bowls are as tiny as they are – we used to use the 1-cup prep bowls for his baby food, which would be a significantly larger amount of chocolate chips!)
I’m sorry to laugh but that is just too funny. I think that’s a story you’ll be telling him when he’s older. And that is the cutest darn navel ever.
Quinn, I’m glad you laughed. So did I (in private).
the best navel, seriously.
maybe the first and second bowls were very tiny amounts. just that they didn’t include anything BUT chocolate chips? after all, you don’t say that the bag was 1/3 empty, so it couldn’t be toooooo bad. i love the unfeigned frankness; it goes away, however. but it will be useful for things like: “why is your baby sister crying?” “i pinched her.” then you get to have THAT conversation. as long as they’re honest, you can at least have the conversations.
Yep, Auntie CL, I appreciate the honesty a lot right now. As for the amounts – they were probably fairly modest bowls, but it’s the MONDO bag of chocolate chips, so it’s hard to tell.
plus it’s been WAY too long since i’ve seen that great little great-niece! she’s big now! i’ve missed it!
Yes! Let’s have a visit!
OMG. That story made me laugh right out loud in the office on my lunch break!
Berty, haha! I’m glad.