Have it for breakfast, lunch AND dinner. Why not? It’s a special day.
Madeline and I just had our weekly day of beauty (every Sunday) and we gave ourselves chocolate facials. As I was applying hers I reminded her that it’s not REAL chocolate and she shouldn’t eat it. “But mommy, it smells like real chocolate.” I looked into her eyes, surrounded by brown goo, and said sternly, “But it’s not REAL chocolate”. Just moments later as I was applying my own chocolate mask, I heard spitting noises coming from her direction. “Ick. Mommy, you were right. It’s not real chocolate.” Live and learn.
When Ben was in treatment he didn’t eat a real meal for 15 months. After his first round of chemo he got terrible mouth sores. The inside of his sweet little mouth was riddled with what looked like the aftermath of a land mine blowing up. It was heinous. So, the kid didn’t eat. He was on daily IV nutrition instead. Occasionally, he would be having a mouth sore-free day and would request chocolate. In Ben-speak, it was “chockwat”. He’s had a terrible time with “L’s”, which is tough for a kid who likes chocolate, Lego’s, and his sister “Madeline”. That was the best, though, he called her “Mad-e-win”. Thinking of him calling her that still makes my heart melt like a Hershey bar left out in the sun.
Speaking of Hershey, my sister used to live there. She moved to Pennsylvania to pursue a love interest. Once they got married, they moved to a house in Hershey, PA. It was right across the street from Hershey Park, which is actually a very cool amusement park. The whole town smelled like chocolate. I think it was a nice place to visit but I don’t know if I could handle that smell every day coupled with the noise from the amusement park during the summer. However, we’ll do crazy things when we’re in love – even tolerate screaming on a daily basis.
The main street in Hershey is lined with streetlights fashioned as Hershey Kisses. The local residents actually call this the “Hershey Highway”. I still can’t get over that. Sadly, Cassi doesn’t live in Hershey anymore. They moved to Hummelstown. I’ve not been there yet, but I’m hoping they don’t have those freaky little Hummel kids all over the place. Along with the Precious Moments figurines, Hummels are things that my nightmares are made of. And clowns. Oooh, and ticks, too. Creepy.
When I was a kid, I loved walking down to the carry-out in Kirkersville with my allowance. I got a dollar each week for cleaning out the cat litter box. With that dollar I could get four candy bars – or actually three candy bars and a bunch of Swedish Fish. I’d be set for the week. They’d give me my brown paper bag with my treasure trove of candy. I would take it all to my secret hiding place – a tiny area wedged between two dressers – complete with a beanbag chair, diary, Judy Blume books, etc. I loved that space. I wish I had something like it today.
My friend, Tracey, is from England. She swears that American chocolate is disgusting. She’s not impressed with Hershey’s. She says that Cadbury’s is so much better. I point out that we, too, have Cadbury’s here in the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. “It’s FAKE!”, she says. And, apparently, she is correct. Much to my surprise, I learned that Hershey owns America’s Cadbury. So American Cadbury is really just Hershey chocolate dressed in a different outfit. We are frauds!
Fine. I’m done talking about chocolate, for Ben just came up behind me, put his hands on my waist and said “You’re squishy.” Thanks, kid. Guess I’ll skip that chocolate after all.
More tomorrow 🙂