“Do I have to go? Can I please stay home? Please?” she fussed. Why does my child never want to leave the house for anything other than school?
“There are tables full of chocolate! Tables! And you can eat a whole plate of chocolate.” My skills of persuasion didn’t phase her. I resorted to telling her she was going whether she liked it or not.
Yes, I forced my child to go to the Chocolate Lover’s Fling. I’m the worst kind of child abuser.
Once we arrived, I figured she’d simmer down. I played up the kids’ table, telling her about fun activities, but she refused. “I don’t want to go to any kids’ table. There will probably be a bunch of other kids that will annoy me.”
What a granny! She took a seat across from the judges table, where I sat. (Lucky me! I got to be a judge this year!) While I tasted and scored a plate of treats, she sat at her table drawing. I was mid-bite into a chocolate bruschetta when she slapped a piece of paper next to my plate. “I’m bored” was written over and over like she’d been given lines as a punishment.
I tried to focus on my chocolate tasting and ignore her obvious distaste for the event. When she asked if she could make some phone calls, I gladly handed over the phone, although I knew she would call my mother with stories of torture.
But, I couldn’t be bothered with this obvious betrayal — I had chocolates to taste. I savored each of the five entries, except the chocolate shot. The judge next to me witnessed my disgust and confirmed. She later gave me the scoop: “It’s vegan,” she whispered, pointing at the little cup. My absolute favorite was this tiny tower of chocolate, topped with a pistachio nut. I later found out it was made by Cinque Terre/Vignola.
Ready to bolt after scoring all my chocolates, I was surprised that Winter decided to get in on the fun. “I guess I’ll try some chocolate,” she muttered. I wanted to be petty and tell her she’d lost her chance, but the gluttinous truth is I wanted more chocolate.
We hopped in line before it was hundreds of people deep. Once Winter realized brownies were on the menu her entire demeanor changed. Her excitement escalated as we traveled through the line.
“Ohhh. That’s beautiful!” She breathed when she caught sight of the chocolate fountain. She was like Augustus Gloop from “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” — ready to dive in and die happy. If that wasn’t enough, she was given a marshmallow on a stick to put into the fountain. “Delicious,” she said, shaking her head as if the scene was unreal.
We hit up a few more tables and by the time we filled our little plate with six items Winter decided we’d had enough and should begin consumption. I was impressed and confused by her sudden restraint.
She showed no restraint once seated and gobbled down every last bit of her chocolate. Burning with the chocolate fever she asked to return to the line for seconds. “Can we take this stuff home?”
“Did you see that line?” I pointed from one end of the building and followed the wall the whole way around to the beginning of the line.
“Oh,” she understood, “let’s go home. But let’s stop at the store and get more brownies.”
What am I going to do with this kid?