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.