I have to admit that I have a bit of a sweet tooth. I don't go crazy and eat gallons of ice cream or gobble family size packages of Peanut M&Ms, but every now and then (probably more often than I should) I indulge.
But I do have one weakness against which I am totally powerless. It is my Achilles heel, my kryptonite, my garlic and holy water. It is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
Surely, you can relate. There's that one item you pass in the grocery store, or at the movie theater; that one thing you see and think, "I probably shouldn't but..." and then you do.
It is difficult for me to describe how much I love Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And I have to specify them by brand name, because other types of chocolate and peanut butter combinations in cup form just don't cut it.
How much do I love RPBCs? I have often wondered how long I could survive eating nothing but Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and 2% milk. On some level I wish this had occurred to me in college, because I was in much better shape to survive on candy for a while, and I think I could have probably parlayed it into a bet of some kind and made money off of it. One more regret I have to live with, I guess.
Harper hasn't had any RPBCs. She's not strong enough to pry them from daddy's hand yet. But we do give her little treats occasionally and she has keyed in on jelly beans. We have this little Easter bunny jelly bean dispenser. You push down on the bunny's right arm and his left arm swings back allowing a jelly bean to pop out of his side into his little Easter basket. When you let got, his left arm swings forward urging you to take the jelly bean like a pusher in a crack den!
The first one's always free
Nothing in the world excites Harper like getting a jelly bean. There's an anticipation on her face, a consternation if we take too long, and an exclamation of pure joy when she finally receives it. She will take itty, bitty bites to make it last. And as soon as she's done, she asks for another. "Mor? Mor? Mor?", echoes her hopeful query.
The great thing about toddlers is they have lousy memories. Do something once, and they'll forget it almost immediately. It takes lots of repetition for them to remember things. Unfortunately, we're getting to the point where Harper retains more from each successive experience. Even though we keep the bunny pusher hidden behind a photo, sometimes she remembers where she saw him last and will point to the picture.
My solution? I'm going to start stuffing that bunny with peas and broccoli. Harper will be in for a big surprise when her dealer starts giving her veggies instead of candy. My laughter that day will be voluminous, muffled only by dangerous levels of chocolate and peanut butter.