Fudgy

Since the holidays are almost over, I have a Christmas memory I'd like to share...

When we moved into our current home, Salem was around 18 months old. We were still trying to sell our other home and times were tough to say the least. We had very little furniture in the house and Christmas decor was at an all time minimum. Someone brought us over a hefty container of homemade fudge (my favorite!) with layers and layers of the good stuff tucked between sheets of parchment.

Our water heater broke one morning late in December and water was everywhere. It was cold, wet and an absolute mess; not to mention trying to clean up said mess with an 18 month old toddling around in 2 inches of cold water was hell on earth. I put her upstairs with some toys, set up the stair gate and began the process of cleaning up. After a while, I didn't hear her babbling, it was eerie quiet. I dashed upstairs to find her toys in a big pile and no child to be found. I called for her while franticly searching the house up and down, no dice. The second time I checked her room, I noticed movement in the corner behind her bed. As I approached, I saw my child hunched over the fudge container nibbling away at the gooey goodness. She didn't even respond when I called her name. So, I raised my voice:

Me: "Salem! What are you doing?!"
She spun around, eyes the size of saucers while sporting a brown chocolate beard and moustache. She beamed as she lifted her arms to show me that she was double fisting golf ball sized nuggets of fudge.

"Fudgy!!" she squealed, proud of herself. I looked into the container to find that there were only a few pieces left. She had eaten nearly a pound of fudge!

For months she repeated "Fudgy" in tandem with drooling whenever she spied chocolate of any kind.