Since the girl started eating, Christmas, I have taken great care to keep SUGAR a minimal part of her diet. And I’ve done incredibly well for someone as disorganized and non-health conscious as myself. She’s flourished, and for a long time we avoided having to discover if Dee had inherited Scott and Maegan’s sugar gene. {Meaning that…while I can eat a gallon of ice cream and then curl up for sugary sweet dreams, well…my sister in law was bestowed the affectionate childhood nickname “Katie Ka-Boom.”}
But noooooo, Christmas. You had to show up with all your Holiday Cheer and Goodwill Amongst Men, and all the things that force people like my husband to do irrational things like BUY OUR TODDLER LUCKY CHARMS and people like me to do irrational things like introduce her to sugar cookies with “sparkles” and kettle krispie treats. (Don’t ask. Don’t ask about any of it. The shame is too heavy to bear.) That cause people like my health-nut of a mother to wrap up shortbread in a box, top it with a Candy cane, and hand it straight to the two year old with the big fat gap between her two front TEEF.
Well, guess what, Christmas? SHE DID inherit that gene. And now my formerly three-square-meal eating girl is holding out for MARSHMALLOWS for BREAKFAST. Seriously CHRISTMAS?! SERIOUSLY?! THIS IS WHAT I’VE RESORTED TO JUST TO GET SOME YOGURT IN HER:
…Hope to see you soon Delilah George…until then, hello ELMYRA.
{Okay seriously – what do I do? It’s like she’s hunger striking for sugar.}
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