Chocolate Confessions

I confess, I am 37 years old and I still wear pig tails on occasion. It's interesting to note that when I wear them , I usually get a "Miss" instead of a "ma'am". I'll take it, hun! Breakfast with my baby is a fun time of day. Lately, I've been lying to him though. He doesn't know that YES, in fact there are two huge gallons of Tropicana OJ in the fridge. If he could, he would live strictly on a diet of orange juice and chocolate. I've had to cut him off so that he drinks more chocolate Silk and actually eats something. Maybe I am sending him mixed messages. This morning I made him a cherry toaster strudel. It's breakfast junk food to me, but I was in a hurry. Sorry, Snowflake! After he scarffed it down he wanted another. Instead, I bribed him with a mini bar of Hershey's Dark Chocolate with Blueberries, Cranberries and Almonds(antioxidants!) while I took Charles out for his morning constitution.
Speaking of chocolate and constitutionals, yesterday I began the process of cleaning up all of his "dead soldiers" that emerged from their wintery graves. It was like being at the Arlington National Cemetary of Poopsicles. Turds everywhere, some mangled beyond recognition, others perfectly preserved as if they were shat two seconds ago. I crossed my heart, tied my hair back, took a deep breath and began the work with the utmost most care. Damn, the crude tools wreaking havoc on my surgical skills! The work was devastingly gruesome, but crucial. With most of them deposited in a mass grave in the dumpster, I went inside and treated myself to a glass of wine for a job well done. In rememberance, I ate a piece of chocolate.