the long con

Today my daughter and I had the most wonderful lunch date right after nursery school pick up.  Often we head straight home, maybe with a stop at the grocery store, or a quick play with friends before we say our goodbyes at the busy city intersections.  But today for no other special reason than I wanted to, we headed out to buy Valentines and have a bite to eat.  The lunch date was a real success.

Hmmm...I really do need to address those cards to her classmates sometime soon but that's nothing that can't wait until... oh crap, is that party tomorrow? Okay, that's nothing that can't wait until commercial breaks during LOST.

Our day was going so well that I decided we deserved a treat of chocolate - the good stuff - a small tin of truffle-filled love in individual, handy dandy wrappers.  We had two each and saved the last one for Dad.  Saving the last one for Dad was her idea - I was all for splitting it right there but she insisted we keep it for him.  It was touching to hear her say "and this one is for Dad, Mommy - when he gets home from work".

And yes, only one for him - not two - because some fancy chocolate company puts five chocolates in a box instead of six. Five? That's not a chocolate number - that's a number that says "go back and get more".

Anyhow, I thought that was adorable and mature to save the last one for Dad though I had my doubts the chocolate would last the afternoon.  She has a pachyderm's memory when it comes to sweet stuff so I figured the cello wrapped gift would last another fifteen minutes before she justified the eating in a chocolate-muffled response that includes a statement about how he would want her to have it, and she heard him say she could have it.  She's got great hearing that can span cityscapes.

I placed the gift under the stroller and our day continued.  I didn't think of that single chocolate again until bedtime when she announced she had a gift for Daddy and would like him to open it.  She trotted off and came back to present to him - while giggling - the box with a lonely chocolate waiting inside.

She appeared pleased with herself, I was touched by her maturity, and was completely taken off guard when she said "You want me to have this, right Daddy?" and plucked the chocolate from the box he just opened and proceeded to eat it right up.

I looked at SB and said helplessly "she promised it was for you" to which he responded "honey, she went for the long con and she got you good".

Oh sweet juju, we are in so much trouble.

For the record, that one chocolate in a three year old was what I'm sure is equivalent to a triple expresso in me before bedtime.  I think she hovered an inch above the bed until she finally passed out.  That girl has got my number I say.

* photo from my trip to Nashville which was overwhelming as usual - putting faces to words is always a shock and a half - the good kind.