Lizzy’s Chocolate Quest

Lizzy loves chocolate.

I do not.

Lizzy inherited her love of the bitter brown stuff from Christine, who has dealt remarkably well with the trial of having a chocolate-hating husband. She humors me by usually making and buying non-chocolate desserts, but occasionally she simply must have a pan of brownies. Then as the pan occupies the counter for several days, she bemoans the fact that no one (e.g., me) will help her and Lizzy eat it and it’s a lot of chocolate for two people (one of whom is limited in her sugar intake by parental decree).

I can’t explain my aversion to the world’s favorite treat. I just don’t like it. I can stand the nasty stuff if there are other strong flavors to counterbalance it. I even like it in the company of peanut butter, for instance. I love Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Peanut M&M's and Almond Joy. White chocolate is pretty good, and some high-end chocolates are tolerable. But I can’t stand plain M&M's or brownies or Hershey’s Kisses. The pungent odors of a candy shop before Christmas or Valentine’s Day turn my stomach.

On a few occasions I’ve not had chocolate for a while, or I have had something chocolate that I haven’t minded, and I’ve begun to wonder if my distaste for chocolate is diminishing. Then I’ll bite into a chocolate-chip cookie, most of which varieties I find revolting, and I’ll quickly renew my determination to avoid the stuff.

Lizzy, however, is determined to get me to like chocolate. She frequently offers me chocolate treats and attempts—mimicking my efforts to get her to eat vegetables—to persuade me to just try it. “Maybe you’ll like it this time,” she urges. She questions the origins of my aversion and seems unable to comprehend my explanations. Very often she will propose compromises, as she did last night.

We were sitting at the dinner table and Christine mentioned the treat that awaited Lizzy if she finished her veggies: a chocolate-chip cookie that Daddy brought home from a work lunch because he didn’t want it. Lizzy brightened at the prospect and immediately began to try to find a way for me to enjoy the treat with her. Knowing of the circumstances in which I will eat chocolate, she suggested that we could embellish the cookie with a spread of peanut butter.

It’s rather endearing—this creative four-year-old missionary zeal for chocolate. I take it as a sign of her affection for me; she doesn’t want me to miss out on something she enjoys so much. But maybe she’s just thinking that she is, after all, smarter than me (see “Silly Dad” post), and that sooner or later I’ll see the light.