A couple of days ago, Michael came to me out of the blue with a sort of sidelong confession:
“Daddy… I had a blue chocolate and I was going to ask your permission but I ate the chocolate anyway but I threw away the wrapper.”
“Mmmmkay,” I mumbled.
As my brain processed his statement further, a small alarm bell began to ring deep in my subconscious. I looked up from my game of solitaire.
“I threw away the wrapper.”
“What wrapper? What did you eat?”
“One of the blue chocolates.”
You see, on Christmas, Santa Claus had been gracious enough to place a full bag of “Dove Promises” chocolates in the stocking labeled “Daddy”. If you’re not familiar with these, let me just say, Dove makes a milk chocolate that is beyond compare. These particular little morsels are wrapped in blue foil, which on the inside have some pithy little affirmation such as “Hug yourself” or “Believe in your dreams” or “Take time to relax”. Before Michael could really read well, he’d ask us to read them to him (oddly, the ones he handed to his mom to read always said “Kiss Your Mommy”).
I made no mention of the chocolates at the time, but squirreled them away to what I believed to be a secretive location, one high and away from the prying eyes of those under five feet tall. Evidently Michael’s packing either a periscope or a high-tech chocolate detector. Or both.
He’d found my stash, and had gotten into it.
“So, you took one of my chocolates without my permission?”
“Why? You should have asked me first! You know that.”
“Well, I was going to ask, but I opened it up and it said ‘Give yourself permission‘ so I did.”
I’m going to write the Mars company a strongly-worded letter.
And I’m going to hide my chocolate in a safer location.