Apparently, that’s what shalosh seudos-post-healthy-food was. I watched in amusement as the children sat around the table with their respective bars and bags, turning serious attention to the serious matter of consumption.
After all, it was a serious matter. As a guest, I had wanted to bring something the kids would appreciate. Knowing both their fondness for milk chocolate, and the potential problem involved in getting the right type of chocolate, I put the matter in their hands.
“So, Yitzy,” I repeated, phone on one ear, bent in the chocolate aisle, trying to hear over the noise of all the late-Friday-shopping-bustle, “Sruly wants the red bag of Klicks, right? And Avi wants whatever Sruly gets, right? And Shimmy wants a blue bar? Is he sure?”
The phone call must have lasted about twenty minutes, as we went through the delicate process of selecting just the right chocolate for each individual.
“And Duvi…?” I asked.
“Hold on, I’ll check,” long-suffering Yitzy assured me. He was back in a minute.
“Duvi wants a pink Klick bar that has white chocolate and almonds. It’s the big kind.”
I mentally groaned. Big Klick bars tend to be kind of pricey. Come on, the kid should know better than that.
From my delicate probing, it was divined that Duvi wanted the pink bar not for its size, but because of its content. And, apparently, white chocolate with almonds did not come in a small bar. Sigh.
“How about the other kids? Won’t they mind if Duvi gets a bigger bar?” This was both an eye towards trouble and, I admit, an attempt at a way out.
“Hold on, I’ll check,” the faithful Yitzi offered. He was back a minute later. “Everyone is ok with it. Nobody minds.” Well, I had to admit I was impressed.
I was still somewhat taken aback at the request, and not a hundred percent happy. But I decided to go with it. A few bucks towards the Shalom Fund were always worth it now and then.
So here we were, sitting at the Shabbos table, with contented faces munching carefully counted chocolate balls and bars. Duvi sat across from me, breaking off small pieces from inside the shiny pink wrapper.
“It’s really good,” he said happily. “You want to taste some?” He offered me the bar.
Touched, I took a small piece and declared it indeed something special.
Light and mellow, yet rich and creamy, with a hint of a crunch of nut.
Another day, another time. Standing in the kitchen for some reason, watching all the action…
Duvi was bending at the fridge, straightening up with a pink-wrapped bar in his hand. My lips turned up on one side. Good to see he was enjoying.
“I’m eating it slowly,” he informed me. “Just a little bit at a time.”
Like Charlie Bucket, I opened my mouth to respond teasingly. Just then-
“Sari!” an adult voice called from downstairs. “Ready to go?”
I backed out of the kitchen while addressing Duvi. “I hope you enjoy it every time!”
But he hadn’t finished. I was halfway down the steps when he called out, “And every time I eat a piece, I think of you.”
I stopped, dumbstruck. I hadn’t expected that. I drew in a sharp breath and responded, “Wow. I am so honored!”
“So I have to make it last for a long time,” he continued easily, “so that I can think of you for a long time.”
I stood there on the steps, rather stunned. I couldn’t believe he was serious; surely this was just a chocolate-obtaining-method of flattery. But I sure wasn’t taking a chance.