Why is chocolate so comforting?
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While some may reach for a drink, others a cigarette, I am literally desperate for chocolate. And not just any sort of chocolate; I need it with gooey stuff inside – caramel or strawberry; turkish delight; a box of assorted treats.
While my little family has fared quite well over the winter months health-wise, this week we made up for it.
My eight-year-old had to have his tonsils and adenoids removed in hospital. Not too dramatic, but nevertheless a stressful and out-of-the-ordinary time.
The AMAZING staff on the children’s ward made our hospital stay, dare I say, quite lovely. But there is something about sending your child off to surgery, seeing them fall asleep, that just tears at your heart.
My big, strong, and sometimes grumpy, husband turned into a pool of emotional turmoil as they wheeled our little fellow away.
But all went well, and dad was chosen to do the night shift.
Having sat at the hospital all day, it was a relief to head home and straight to bed, where our other son was already asleep.
But of course, it never just rains… as luck would have it, by midnight he was up and vomiting into a bucket.
Twenty-four hours later, our hospital patient was back home, our vomiting child was in lockdown in our bedroom.
One was demanding ice-cream while the other wanted an icy pole.
Both miserable – and only one mum.
It was a day of running between the makeshift bedroom in the lounge room and the upstairs quarantine bedroom.
Come mid-afternoon, I am covered in patches of blood, snot, vomit and saliva.
So my hunt for chocolate began.
All I needed to get through the next few hours was a nice hot cup of coffee and a big fat chocolate bar.
Like a woman possessed I raid both my teenagers’ bedrooms with no success… checking kitchen cupboards where I may have some hidden – also no luck.
Then like an angel, a big bearded delivery man appeared at the back door. I could have sworn there was a glow around him but that could have been his high-vis jacket.
There he stood with an enormous smile, holding two get well balloons and an enormous array of chocolate treats.
The timing was almost a little spooky.
I am not sure if he was smiling so much because of my leopard-print pyjama pants and my filthy t-shirt, or if the look on my face made it obvious to him that I believed a miracle had just happened in my own backyard.
He left, and before the kids even saw the balloons, I was delving into the box quite beside myself.
Needless to say we all survived the week.