I'm afraid I've talked up Cadbury Creme Eggs way too much.
She's been pumping me for details on the way to school:
"So, are the shells milk chocolate or dark chocolate?"
"And are the pretend yolks more yellow-y or orange-y?"
"Wait, does the eggy goo taste anything like marshmallow? Because you know I don't like marshmallow."
I think she's afraid she won't like them. And that she'll feel bad, because she knows that her uncle and I loved them when we were kids.
That we'd gnaw our teeth through the anemic chocolate of the narrower end until we had a hole from which to slurp the sickeningly sweet, slippery filling.
That we'd keep eating until our tongues tired and our teeth ached and our stomachs revolted.
Without a sibling to model junk food gluttony, she is way more sensible than any child her age ought to be. She's obviously healthier for it--but it breaks my heart a little.
Upon trying cotton candy, she rejected it because she felt like she was eating "that pink stuff up in the attic that you're not supposed to walk on."
And cotton candy is weird.
And Cadbury Creme Eggs are disgusting.
But I still want her to try them.
So, we bought a dozen of the small ones.
And my brother and I will eat one at the same time.
Then we can all recoil and spit them out together.