I happened to learn very early on that I need Emilia to have a nap just as much as she needs to have one. That way everyone ends up much happier by the end of the day. Yes, I feel like a complete lightweight making such a claim, especially when my sister is running around like a crazed lunatic chasing after seven kids all day, and also managing to write an enormous book at the same time. But what can I say? I need downtime.
And so today, moments after Emilia had been read to, plonked in her bed, given a drink of water, and so on, I ran to the sofa in the living room and sat -- in dead-silence and waited. Seriously, if I so much as put on the tea-kettle, I will hear her saying, 'Mama making tea!' And then she will quickly change from her commentary on tea to singing her favorites from Mary Poppins. 'Mia love Cast off the Shackles!' That would be Sister Suffragette, in case you were wondering, which is hilarious to hear her sing. And she will emphatically do this for you upon request. I still remember her running around saying, 'cut off shackles, mama!'. I would in turn ask Michael, 'What did she say? It sounds like she is asking to cut off the shackles! What an odd little child...' And then one day it hit me, 'Of course! You're asking for Mary Poppins!' Knowing Miss Milia, she probably then said, 'A-doy, Mama!'
She knows every single word and never misses one -- albeit, her words are slightly off as she doesn't exactly know what she is singing. Over the past couple of months she has gone from singing 'Yemen's Goats' to 'Women's Dotes' to, finally, 'Women's Votes.' We've a little feminist in the making, I suppose.
Anyway, as much as it makes me laugh to hear her sing, there will be no singing during nap-time. Period. (Hence the lock-down.) Which is I why I often find myself in the living room with a book for a bit. (Reading is such a quiet and pleasant activity, is it not?) Anyway, because I didn't feel like tromping down the hallway for the latest Flavia de Luce installment, I sat reading Sophie Dahl's cookbook instead, and pondering my tiny little box of Theo Chocolates. (In the meantime, I've decided to make that flourless chocolate cake from Miss Dahl's book. Sounds divine.)
As for my Theo's box? Well, it is rather lovely stuff, isn't it? We went to Fremont over the weekend to get a birthday present for our brother-in-law, and we got a few little extras while there. (What do you take me for? Of course we got a few little extras.) Anyway, Theo Chocolates are marvelous. We don't go very often as they are kind-of a pain to get to and, besides, I had a rather shocking experience there a few years ago. Emilia and I went to get a birthday present for my dad (who happens to be a rather devout fan of dark chocolate), and I remember putting several things in my little basket while we were there. One of those 'things' was a box of chocolates (or 'confections' as they annoyingly call them) for me -- it was a beautiful box, part of their winter collection, and I remember it was $36. After much internal deliberation I decided, why the hell not, we don't ever get out here, and it is supposed to be fabulous stuff. And that was that.
Meanwhile, a few days later I am on the phone with my mom telling her about Theo's. She quickly cuts me off and says something along the lines of, 'Honey, I've been on their website and I've seen how expensive those chocolates are!' And then I chimed in with, 'Oh, they aren't that bad. They're the same as Fran's, probably.' My mom just laughed in her, 'yeah, right' sort-of way. Hmpf!
Anyway, later that day I pulled my receipt out of the shopping bag to have a quick look at what my mom was grousing about. In a flash, I nearly had a coronary, a seizure, wet my pants, and blacked out. Holy shit. Do you want to know how much I spent? That little box of 'confections' that I thought was $36 turned out to be almost 80 smackers. That's right. I felt sick. I felt worse than sick, really. I felt like a bad person. Don't get me wrong, I can spend money like the best of them, but usually I am a little bit more aware when doing so. I felt hoodwinked -- even though it was not Theo's fault. As it turned out I bought a box with 36 chocolates -- not a box for $36. I actually debated giving them away, because the thought of them made me so miserable I couldn't even stand to look at them. And then I considered going to confession. (I even debated giving them to our priest, but I knew he wouldn't fully appreciate them, lovely man that he is.)
And then a few nights later I got really mad at Michael for something. (Who even knows why now.) So what did I do? I marched straight into the kitchen, opened up the cupboard, pulled out my beautiful little box, and ate 4 of them. (Guess I showed him, right?) And then I confessed a few days later that we would be eating creamed-tuna-on-toast for awhile on account of the fact that I blew the bank on delectable little chocolates. (Michael has this annoying ability to 'rise above' in our arguments. He would never do something so childish as cram his face with chocolate simply because he is mad at his practically-perfect little wife.)
Now then, in Theo's defense. Their chocolates (and confections) are all organic and fairly traded, and that seriously counts for something. (Apparently this is a major feat in the world of chocolate, which partially accounts for the price.) They are also absolutely heaven. Their caramels are shockingly good, and they are also the only makers of a mint truffle that I do not loathe. Their mint truffles taste like freshly picked mint from your backyard in gloriously dark chocolate. My favorite though is the burnt sugar. It is like a caramel-y buttery-scotchy chocolate, but not oozy and sticky and drippy like some of them can be. Very difficult to describe, so you may just have to try it for yourself. And while you are at it, get some caramels and a few of those bread and chocolate bars, and maybe a box of the chocolate & flowers that looks so nice. Just make sure you've brought an extra pile of money with you, and maybe keep your priest on speed-dial, just in case. Alternatively, you could buy the lot and sing Sister Suffragette all the way home, in the manner of a truly liberated woman. Although liberated from what, I'm not quite sure. I'll ask Emilia as soon as she is up from her nap.
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