A Casualty to Chocolate

I like my chocolate.

Oh yes, I do.

It's second only to my cheddar cheese, and even then, there are days when the chocolate wins. And since I can't HAVE my cheddar cheese, chocolate has taken a prominent place in my life.

Of course, most chocolate bars and such contain milk, so I'm pretty much limited to Oreo cookies (which i don't do often because I consume them SOOOO fast), Ghirardelli semi-sweet chocolate chips, and Lindt 70% cocoa bars.

Can you guess which one costs the least? Can you guess how often I frequent the baking aisle at the store?

Well, poor Felicity is often in my arms as I munch my chocolate chips, and in the past few days there have been a few "episodes."

Like two days ago, when, about 20 minutes after eating chocolate chips and then putting her down in her swing, I turned to gaze lovingly at her, only to discover this:


Here it is close up.


Yes, that dark area under her chin is the other half of it. Apparently, a chocolate chip had fallen on her, been pinched under her little chin, and melted there. And the stain is still in the shirt, since it was light enough to be invisible when the shirt was wet, so I dried it. Dang it.

And then, about half an hour ago, I was nursing her when I noticed a grayish spot on her shirt. I felt it, and it was oddly crunchy. I reached underneath and scratched it, and pulled out a fingernail full of flaky brown stuff that smelled oddly sweet.

Here she is with her shirt turned inside out:


Apparently a chocolate chip had fallen into her shirt and been pinched there. It didn't dislodge in the wash, and I had washed, dried, and folded the shirt without ever noticing.


So when I put her shirt on her this morning, I put a chocolate chip on her, too.

Poor little thing! She's gonna grow up wondering why chocolate makes her feel violated.