Wednesday, 12 April 2017

Chocolate...

When I came home from work yesterday afternoon, for one crazy moment, I wondered whether I'd gone to the wrong house.  It was so quiet, and the house looked like it did when I had left yesterday morning (hoovered, floors washed, what's left of the stair carpet brushed).  This was because son number two was back at work, and son number one had gone to see his girlfriend.  We only have his word that she's not an imaginary girlfriend, as none of us have actually seen her as yet,    We have promised to be on best behaviour and everything, and I am now wondering whether he's afraid to introduce her to his middle-aged swinging parents...can't imagine why.

My cartwheel sized chocolate cake went down quite well at work, although I was astonished at the amount of people claiming to be on diets.  A decision was made fairly early on though that if you had a small slice before 10.00am, then it would be fine as you'd have a chance to work it off through the day. Let's think about that shall we?  Nearly all of us flop down at our desks in the morning, and only get up again for food or home. My colleagues will be carrying around their chocolate cake babies for some days I would imagine.  You note I don't include myself in this - I don't like chocolate cake, so no problem for me...

In fact, I try not to eat chocolate at all, and as Easter approaches, part of me always mourns not having an Easter Egg.  When the kids were younger, and my self control was non existent, unlike my stomach and derriere which were almost indistinguishable from each other, they used to 'save' their eggs, loving the pile stacked up on the kitchen worktop.  What they didn't know, was that when they were at school, I would be pinching small bits of chocolate off each egg (usually that thicker bit which was always at the bottom) and gradually, the boxes would get lighter as the contents disappeared.  One year, after a particularly bad afternoon, I told the kids that the chocolate had gone off and that I'd had to put the chocolate down the waste disposal (no evidence that way).  I almost felt guilty when I looked at their little faces, but it was only 'almost'.

Since then, the kids have squirreled their eggs away in hiding places around the house. Even the husband does this. Now they all know that I no longer eat chocolate, so it would be safe to leave their eggs in the kitchen.  But there's a couple of new kids in town now. Two kids who have no qualms where the brown stuff is concerned.

Son number two and ELL are demons where chocolate is concerned, and have been known to sniff out an after dinner chocolate in my handbag, pinched from the local curry house. They have no shame, and will relieve the others of their chocolate stashes with no chagrin.

I wouldn't mind, but the two of them are so thin that they have to run around in the shower to get wet, and cattle grids can be an issue for them.

Life can be so unfair...



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