Beaver is not supposed to eat chocolate.
She will openly admit to anyone who will listen that it makes her crazy.
We discovered this last Easter when she secretly ate her way through a basket of mini chocolate eggs and turned into Satan.
Since then we have pretty much put a ban on it. I have had proud moments where she has gone through a party bag, sifted out all the chocolate goodies and returned them to the party host. I have had not so proud moments when she’s acted like Satan and I haven’t had chocolate to blame it on.
I am quite pleased about this new development. Because now I have a valid excuse to ban all those chocolate advent calendars that litter our mantelpiece until Christmas Day with their irritating, moulting foil bits.
Last year I think we ended up with about six. Two of them might have made it to Christmas Day. The other four got to about the 8th December before someone ate all the chocolates. Without even opening all the doors too. What do you mean, you didn’t know you could just slide the plastic out of the top? It wasn’t me, by the way.
So this year, I asked the grandparents not to buy us loads of advent calendars. A simple, paper one for Beaver and Godivy to share would be just fine. One without chocolate. Obviously.
And we have exactly what I wanted. A very traditional advent calendar, which I remembered yesterday morning at about 8.30 AM.
This would not have been a problem had the calendar been ready to go. But no, it was a flat-pack house advent calendar. Albeit without an allen key. As I spent the next 30 minutes desperately trying to assemble it before Beaver remembered what the date was, it did occur to me that perhaps chocolate advent calendars aren’t the spawn of Satan after all.
When Beaver saw the advent calendar, her reaction was pure amazement. ‘It’s so beautiful, Mummy.’
Then she asked me where the chocolate was.
‘Erm, there isn’t any chocolate. Because Father Christmas knows that you can’t eat it.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So what’s behind the doors then? Little presents?’
‘Pictures?’ she said. ‘Pictures?’
This was followed by a complete look of horror. ‘What are these pictures you speak of?’
After trying to explain several times that yes really, there are just pictures behind the door, I relented. I told her that there is also magic and when she opens the door each day, something special will happen.
Turns out I wasn’t lying.
Because this morning she opened door no. 2 and the next thing we know, Daddy Pig walks in from his weekend away with a big tube of Smarties and a princess on top. A gift for Beaver.
There goes my crusade.
Anyone know where I can get some chocolate advent calendars in the sale?