The Power of Chocolate Bread

When my alarm shrieked at me this morning, my eyes didn’t want to open.  They often don’t on Mondays.

I stayed in bed fifteen minutes later than usual, showered myself somnambulant and went to power up the laptop until I had to pry the kids out of bed.  The only caffeine left in the house was chai tea and Irish Breakfast, so I filled my two-story mug with a cup of each* and poked at the keyboard for a while with little or no effect.**

Then a hand appeared in my line of vision, holding a slice of heaven.

And I remembered.

My husband made chocolate bread last night.

It may not be the Robert Redford of breads—or the young Robert Redford, anyway—but one cannot judge the power of chocolate bread on looks, only on effect.

The fact that I actually took the time to sit down and eat breakfast might tell you something, if I’ve ever shared how often this doesn’t happen.***

Janie ate her first slice—including the crusts—and willingly went to get ready for school on the promise of seconds.  She came back with her hair brushed and shoes on. And, after the second slice was gone, she brushed her teeth without complaint.  We actually left the house on time and with everything both of us needed for the day.

I know.

I drove Janie to school in a happy, road-rageless, chocolate bread frame of mind, dropped her off, and went to work.

Where my co-workers looked at me and said, “Weren’t you taking a vacation day?”

Oh.  Yeah.

So I went to the study rooms and locked myself in to write until lunch.  I met my husband and MIL at our favorite smokehouse barbecue joint—where I had pulled chicken stuffed in a potato bigger than my head—and went to the bookstore to write in a carb-fueled frenzy with short e-mail and Words with Friends^ breaks until it was time to go home.

And then . . . I had An Idea.

I called my husband and told him I would pick up Janie.  When I did, instead of going home, we went to Panera for a snack^^ and commandeered a table for homework.  She worked on multiplication and a reading assignment and I worked on an article.  I helped her with her spelling and she taught me how to play Potty Race on the Barbie website.^^^

It was fun.

We went home around 5:30, to find a Sunny who had been thrilled to have the TV remote all to herself.  They all helped me with dinner—at one point by clearing out of my kitchen, thank you—and afterward . . .

More chocolate bread.

I highly recommend it.


*The combination honestly isn’t that bad.  Really.  A little chewy—not the bags, the tannin—but potable.

**To those of you who received comments from me this morning before 6:30 CST, I deeply apologize.  I remember something about heavy metal bassoon bands and parental guilt, but that’s it.  Our Laura may have the best comment of the bunch, but that was after the next few paragraphs.

***Yeah, yeah, most important meal of the day, got it, thanks, moving on.

^This is the first and best reason I have for joining Facebook, even if I keep getting trounced…  I still haven’t forgiven Cha Cha for “Guilders.”

^^Hot chocolate and a ginormous cookie for her, hot tea for me, since I was still pretty full.

^^^Revolting but mesmerizing—we spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get Barbie’s little sister to pick up the toilet roll.  I’m not kidding.