Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The dark, bittersweet goodness of the Easter bunny

"What'll it be," I ask, dishtowel draped over my forearm, bowing slightly in her direction as I lean the sippy cup containing warmed milk against it for her inspection.

"Uhm .... Oh, I know. Chotola ayes!"

Welcome to Chez Grincheux -- The place where the ingestion of protein is only attained through barter.

She is silent as she accepts the beverage and commences slurping.
Her face is turned away but her eyes have rotated to the edge of their orbs and are fixed on me.

"How about pancakes?"

No sound.

"How about waffles?"

Still, there is no response other than the sluice of fluid drafting up through the cup.

"Eggs and sausage?"

"Oh, yes, Mommy. Chotola ayes, please."

Easter is fast approaching, and, even though she hasn't fully grasped the concept of a cute and cuddly bunny bearing confectionary delights, Ittybit is nothing but observant.

For weeks I've tried to explain, with varying degrees of success, why all those bags of colorful foil-wrapped candies were piled at the edge of the grocery conveyor belt. And, more importantly, why we couldn't buy them.

I thought I wove a fascinating tale of an elusive oversized, personified long-eared mammal (classified as a rodent until 1912), who, once a year, travels the world dispersing candy to good and deserving little girls and boys. I opined in excruciating detail how his quivering rabbit whiskers and lop ears lead him to grocery stores far and wide so that he might procure fresh candy for all the children. (I consider leaving out the part about the furry beast's nasty side, the part about his pension for hiding the aforementioned goodies under shrubs and flower beds, but decide that talk will be for another year).

Obviously, I explained, we had to make sure the sweet treats were available to him along his long, long route, lest good and deserving children be disappointed.

Her blank stare and furrowed brow tell me all I need to know.

"Mom, you are in need of electro-shock therapy."

Of course, it takes the babysitter just 10 minutes and Spot's First Easter lift-a-flap book to answer all Ittybit's questions. "Oh, I like chotola ayes, too," she exclaims as "YaYa" tells her Hippo is eating all the eggs while Spot is saving his for later. "I'd like to eat one, too."

"YaYa" chuckles and tells her she'll have to ask mom about that.
Something tells me my answer won't be satisfying, but I stop at the store anyway and wonder if she'll at least eat some toast with her chocolate eggs.

bowl egg


Be Still said...

I totally understand where you are coming from. I feel like a short-order cook trying to please the little master.

Jude seems to have the complete opposite problem with protein consumption from Annabel.

Our little guy is on the anti-Atkins diet. Waffles, granola bars, pancakes and toast seem to be the only things he'll eat. I've resorted to sneaking in peanut butter and Soy Crisps for the protein fix. What I wouldn't do to get an egg in that kid.

Mom101 said...

A sharp writer, a great photographer, beautiful offspring, AND good hair? I call foul.

Your site is terrific. Thanks for the comment over at mine and for leaving the trail back here. It's nice to find another nyc blogger as well--I'll be back for sure.

Mom101 said...

Oops, I see you're not nyc, just ny. Damn. I knew everyone else around me was too busy being fabulous to read blogs. (slinks away, head held low.)

toyfoto said...

Hey, be still ... I'm not going to advocated feeding him chocolate eggs, but it is Easter and the peeps are laying 'em.

And MOM101: If every you mosey on upstate, we'll leave the light on.

Bridgermama said...

Wow is your little girl simply beautiful. Gotta love "Chotola ayes!"