The Present

We don’t normally do much for Valentine’s Day. I usually cook something a little special, and Paul brings home a beautiful flowering plant for me to neglect take care of. Maybe there’s a tasty dessert involved. That’s usually about the extent of it.

This year Paul decided we needed some chocolates, and believe me, I have no objection to chocolates. He picked up a box of assorted chocolates at Trader Joe’s on his way home from work on the 14th, and we set it on the counter to pick at later.

 

Because I had made a cheesecake for dessert, we didn’t get around to eating the chocolate that night. When we went to bed, they were still wrapped up in the heart-covered wrapping paper which had led Veronica to label them a “present” earlier in the evening.

Fast forward to the next morning. It was Tuesday, so I got to sleep in a bit while Paul went off to work. It must have been about 7:30 when I heard the patter of little feet coming into the room and over to the bedside.

“Mommy, mommy! I know what’s in the present!”

Uh, oh.

“It’s chocolate!”

 

I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen where, sure enough, the box of chocolates was missing. Without stopping I went straight into Veronica’s room to see ripped up wrapping paper on her bed. At this point, between the destruction on her bed and the chocolate on her face, I just knew she had eaten the whole box. I was doomed to dealing with chocolate-induced tummy issues throughout the day.

But when I finally made it over to her bed to assess the damage, there was only a single chocolate missing from the box. Most of which had been spat back out. Apparently Veronica does not like nuts as much as her parents do.

But that is the last time I ever leave anything even remotely attractive to Veronica out on the counter over night.

Until the next time, anyway.