THE DOVE CHALLENGE PART DEUX

So—I had a plan. Nothing diabolical, like coming up with an elaborate scheme to trick my kids into giving me some of their valentines candy.



….Yet.

I had brilliantly planned to use the Dove’s valentine edition this past weekend in preparation for “V” day. My plans were thwarted on last Wednesday. Cupid had singled me out, but not with arrows—with tear gas.

I got a call from school.

“Mom?”

“What’s going on honey?” My daughter is near tears and I can tell this is major. “My class is passing out their valentine’s and I don’t have mine. I feel so left out.”

Me: !!!!!!!?????????

“What!?” I say. No note? No memo? No heads-up that the class party was going to be on a Wednesday, not the Friday class party—like every single class in school should be doing?!

“I’ll bring you some in twenty minutes,” I say coolly, but inside, an angry Tasmanian devil takes over.

(I may have taken up his language too...

“Blah blah blah rawr rawr rawr #%&*! ughhhhhhhhhhh!”)

Luckily, I had bought Valentines ahead of time. I already had their cards—but not the candy. However, I did have a bag sitting in my cupboard—my Dove Valentines chocolates. GOOD CHOCOLATE. Do you see the sacrifice we make for our kids?!

I spent the next twenty minutes tearing off cards, (grumbling), writing names, (growling), taping ‘my’ chocolate to cards, (there may have been a few choice words…) and counting to a bazillion to find Mr. Miyagi’s inner calm. Kids can’t appreciate good chocolate—heck they’re the only ones who eat crappy chocolate and can’t tell the difference from Godiva’s!

So—there went all my Doves. The good chocolate.

Better for the weight gain, I console myself, but not as fun now.

I did, however, have 4 chocolates left. I opened the first chocolate. The message was written by Martha Stewart. It said:

Um………my husband would shoot me.

NEXT.

It’s Martha, again, and she demands:

Martha, Martha, Martha…..you aren’t helping my mood. I ALREADY did that and now my daughter’s entire 4th grade class is eating my chocolates!!

Try again, Martha.

Really, that’s romantic? My hubby would want my fingers in his coffee, drawing heart shapes in his froth? Well, we’re not coffee drinkers, so I’m forced to try something a little different...

Does this work?

(Work quickly, people. That is ALL I’ll say.)

There is one last chocolate and it quivers under my touch. Oh yeah, baby. As I unfold the wrapper, I have an epiphany as I read the message. Martha has taken over the Dove candy company. Dove had no choice but to surrender, their very name signifies peace. The famous domestic diva is now in full control. She commands:

(No, her laugh wasn’t typed there—but that’s what I heard!)

Well, I’m no domestic diva myself, but it does subtly persuade me to “try.”

How’s this? Adequate?

My husband will love my efforts. He’ll love my heart. Who needs chocolate when you have Styrofoam?