Mother’s Day follow up: we went by the local chocolate
factory after the holiday for no particular reason. The holiday went well, but
Hubby decided I deserved chocolates. There’s a reason we’ve been married twenty
years.
Friday night, as The Girl sat beside Hubby and me, playing
Minecraft, (being mindless and blowing off steam after a hard day of trying to
forget about dissecting a frog in biology, and worse, trying to forget her
mother was there to help; showing her friends and peers I’m not the evil creature
of torture that parents are portrayed to be) we decided to have a chocolate.
Hubby produced the required sugar and handed me a chocolate. I tested it, found
it pleasing. He took a nibble, has no tolerance for sugar and handed it back. I
gave the rest to The Girl. She was more than happy to finish it off. Hubby
handed me another one. Repeat process.
The Girl asked why chocolate was so popular with women. We
believe in being honest with our children, so Hubby explained it releases endorphins
in the brain.
Considering the movies she’s already seen, I think it’s little late to start
playing coy. Like sex, I finished for him.
“Wait,” The Girl said, as I handed her the third chocolate.
“That kind of means I’m having sex now. And since we’re sharing, this is
incest.”
Hubby closed the box of chocolates. No more for The Girl.
She’s warped.
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