Last night was the best night of my kids' life - or so they told me. While they were eating candy for breakfast. I forced them to eat something healthy along with all that sugar.
"You don't take care of us very well" they said.
"Oh, and if I did, what would that look like?" I asked.
"You would let us eat candy ALL the time and drink pop for breakfast" I was informed.
"I can't afford the dentist bill so I guess you'll have to suffer" I replied. They didn't appreciate my logic.
I sent them off to school. I contemplated sending an apology note to their teachers, but I was distracted by the piles of sugar in my kitchen.
For the rest of the morning I did everything I could to ignore the bowl of chocolate bars and skittles sitting on my counter. I ate raspberries. I defrosted the freezer. I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. The more I ignored them, the louder those darn chocolate bars screamed. Then they started whining. Gah . . . I can't handle whining!!!
I relented. I gave in. I had one. It was sooooo good. I told myself "no more". I went back to work trying to distract myself.
As soon as the kids walked in the door, they immediately went to their candy bags. They are trying to take it easy on me by not letting me see what's inside. But I know what's in there - and it is calling me.
One of them brought me a half eaten Aero bar. I said no, I can't eat that. No one else wanted it so my son walked over to throw it in the garbage can!
"Nooooooooooo" I yelled as I dove across the counter to rescue that delicious chocolate. I shoved it in my mouth as fast as I could, and then looked around the kitchen with wild eyes, searching for more. There were half eaten chocolate bars everywhere! Something inside me snapped.
I'm not exactly clear on what happened next, but I'm hoping my kids don't have nightmares after seeing me headfirst in their candy bags and hissing at them whenever they came within 5 feet of me. I'm assuming they went to bed while I was binging. Either that or they ran away.
When my husband finally gets home tonight he may be surprised to find me sitting in the living room half dressed and stroking a ring pop repeating "My Precious". All I know is he better not come near me unless he has chocolate . . . .
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