Truffles

All year we have been collecting items to send to our families in their Christmas packages.  Last week at the market I grabbed a large bag of chocolate truffles to send in a few of the boxes.  Then evening before last, after Miles went to bed, we pulled out everything we'd been collecting all year to sort into piles and see what we still needed to pick up so we can get our Christmas packages in the mail.  I took the truffles and put them in the appropriate boxes and went to bed.  The following morning Miles wanted to investigate the pile of boxes.  He saw the brightly colored, shiny truffles and picked one up in his chubby little hand.  He brought it over to me and pointed to my hand, which is what he does when he wants me to open something.  I thought "what the heck" and opened the truffle and gave it to him.  He took a tentative sniff, then a lick (you can tell his brothers are cats), and decided it was safe to eat.  After one, he tried for another.  I told him no, tears ensued, I tried distraction, which worked for about 2.3 minutes.  He ran back into the room, straight for the truffles, grabbed another, came to me and handed it to me.  I caved.  I am powerless to resist the chocolate-eyed adorableness.  

Fast forward to the evening.  Daddy comes home from work, we have dinner, and are playing together when Miles suddenly leaves the room.  We wait a few seconds, then hear a crinkling sound that I recognize as the chubby handed fishing of truffles out of a box.  We wait for him to return to us to have mommy open the delicious treat.  Only the sound of crinkling isn't followed by the sound of heavy footed toddler steps back in our direction.  It is followed by silence.  Which is not golden when you have a toddler.  We make a break for the other room.  

We find him, kneeling on the floor next to Grandma & Grandpa's box.  Wrapper discarded on the floor, chubby fingers wrapped around a ball of chocolate.  "CHEEEEESE" he says, accompanied by a big grin to show of his teeth, and then he pops the truffle in his mouth.  Now he looks like a chipmunk smuggling enough nuts for a family of 8 for the whole winter.  We move towards him, but those deep chocolate brown eyes glisten and another "CHEEESE" freeze us in our tracks.  With a loud giggle he jumps up and runs out of the room.  I don't chase after him to scold him...I can't...he's just too cute.  And after all I am proud of him for figuring out how to open the wrapper all by himself. 

He will never be able to do anything wrong. 

We are in trouble.