Sugar

          Ax loves sugar, especially chocolate.  I don’t know how this happened since we were definitely going to avoid exposing him to processed sugar of any kind until he moved out on his own.  Yet he is five and somehow became exposed to the magical combination of sugar, and cocoa, and fat, and now he’s hooked. 

            We somehow progressed from total abstinence, to only on special occasions such as birthday parties, to one treat per day, to regularly spiking his milk with honey.   These days he sings about chocolate, talks about it, covets it, demands it, and bargains for it when we try to get him to eat other foodstuffs.

            Chocolate chip muffins have become a legitimate weekend breakfast.  My mother made a batch of chocolate chip cookies that became “snack” rather than a special treat.  I didn’t fight it.  Suddenly, chocolate has become a daily dose.  I say this by way of confession, not boast.

            Now that the holiday season has kicked up, it’s gotten worse.  His desire is fortified by the omnipresence of cookies, gingerbread, and holiday sugar orgy parties.  Last Sunday we hit bottom.  We took him for breakfast where he enjoyed hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant.  Later that day we attended a purported
“lighting ceremony” where a host of sparkling silver trays of sugar treats had my son’s eyeballs wide with desire beyond his control.

            He quickly grabbed and scarfed two chocolate cookies before we cut him off.  His protest became uncomfortably loud before I managed to quiet him down by assuring him that he could have more the next day, at home, while sneaking a napkin-wrapped brownie into my pocket.

            And then came the tears, quietly at first, and then with sobs and snot and body heaves, as we hustled him out of the event, down the long driveway, to the car.   We got him into the car, where he crumpled to the floor of the backseat, head hung low, long straight shiny boy hair shielding his face.  He banged on the seat of the car, and the back of the driver side chair, wailing incomprehensibly.

            Mike and I looked at each other, feeling his pain, for what seemed like a very long time.  After Ax began breathing normally, we dissected the events of the day.  We decided as a family less sugar was probably a good idea.  The next day Ax asked if he could have a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast.  I wanted one too.