Raising A Chocoholic

Going into my pregnancy I was already diabetic and had to watch everything I ate a little more closely.

That being said, I love chocolate, and need it to survive.

Yes, I said need.

I opted for peanut M&Ms early on, and each day I had 1 serving.  Read the bag.  I actually weighed out enough of those suckers for 1 exact serving, figured out what cup we had that would hold it exactly, and every afternoon for 37 weeks I filled it and enjoyed it.

I never said I didn't have issues.

Somewhere in one of the books with old wives tales I read that eating chocolate during pregnancy resulted in an early smiler.

Well, yes, James did smile early.  And often.  And I don't think all of it was gas.

What the book didn't warn me about was that another result would be an apparent chocoholic in the household that isn't me.

I am serious when I say that if you dip anything in chocolate that my son will eat it.  Or at least use his teeth to scrape the chocolate off of it.

He did that to a mini Twix until he got a taste of the caramel and cookie.  Then he decided he could bite it.

The great grandparents keep snacks for him at their place, and decided to buy him Chocolate Lucky Charms.  Which he loved so much that we bought for us to have on hand as well.

At least until last week when he walked up to me whimpering about his hand.  And I saw the melted blue marshmallow and tufts of carpet stuck to it.

You know, carpet from the place we had JUST moved in to.

Anywho.

Once that box was finished we moved him to Cheerios.  The chocolate ones.

I'm hoping this bodes well for potty training in the end.  I mean, what kid wouldn't do something for a mini Milky Way or 3 Musketeers as a reward?

Am I bad mother?