Death by Chocolate

This morning I made pancakes for breakfast, as per Daniel's request. In preparation for the upcoming baking season (and because they were offering a coupon) I had just bought a huge bag of chocolate chips at Costo. Ergo I made a few "special treat pancakes".

They were a huge hit.

Dan cleaned his plate, but there was some chocolate smush lingering. Dan had that "I want to lick the plate" look, so I told him in by best I'm-telling-you-this-so-you'll-know-it's-okay-to-do-the-opposite voice, "Daniel, do not lick that plate!" Instead of licking it (not something I encourage, but it's Saturday, and he was eating "special treat pancakes"!), he said, "I'll let Phoebe lick it!"

That's something else I don't encourage, and because it was chocolate on the plate Pete immediately told him not to, and explained that chocolate is not good for dogs. He explained that dogs and lots of other animals can't digest chocolate, and that it could make her really sick. "It could make her so sick that she could die and go to heaven to be with G-d," he warned.

Daniel sat thoughtfully for a moment and asked, "Did grandma eat too much chocolate?"

"No," I said, trying not to smile. "Grandma didn't even really like chocolate very much."

Neither of us really understands THAT.

Death by chocolate. If you've gotta go, that way doesn't seem so bad...