got milk?

I have a confession. My daughter’s love for milk is waning. As a non-milk lover myself, I panicked recently and started offering Caroline chocolate milk with dinner. Anything to avoid the inevitable breakdown over the absence of juice from her Dora cup. I kept reminding myself that she drinks lots of milk at school, that she drinks the bottom of her cereal bowl (blech!), that I offer milk often. That reasoning helped temporarily, but now I just feel guilty. Shouldn’t I be more forceful with the milk? Milk with meals. Milk with snack. Milk. Milk. Milk. Milk. Umm, Milk?

She loves chocolate milk. She’ll agree to it enthusiasticly in place of juice any day. Perhaps it is the special big girl cup I serve it in? or the fact that it comes with a straw? that it requires stirring? or the milk bubbles she can blow into the cup that rise higher and higher in the glass? In all honestly, I’m feeling a little shame that I opened up the door to Hershey so soon.

Thing is, I myself cannot stand milk. I can only drink it quickly when it is ice cold and sometimes I even put an ice cube in the glass to ensure the complete lack of warmth.

Last night I poured myself a tall glass of milk and mixed in my own Hershey’s chocolate syrup and I drank it down happily, without squirming for one second. I actually enjoyed it. Maybe this is pregnancy? Maybe not? I might… love chocolate milk. I might even be craving a glass of it right now.

Once in high school my sweet friend Tasha and I had a “note war” over spring break. Teenage girls are expert note writers and when you are too young to drive and live almost a half hour ride from one another, even the phone gets boring. We’ll just gloss over the fact that during the “who can write the longest note over break battle” we often added to our notes while talking on the phone…to one another. Tasha declared me the winner with my 20 something page note, but I have gargantuan messy script. Her pages were covered in perfect pink and purple printing. We really should have just called it a draw. I still have hers; stapled together, complete with multiple versions of a “like meter,” recaps of cartoons she loved, details of her days lazing through the two week spring break.

She devoted almost an entire half page to this statement:

“I heart chocolate milk”

Tonight I’ll pour myself and her "niece" another tall glass of the favorite beverage of her 15th year to honor her 31st. Happy Birthday Tasha.


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