A Little Sugar...

The first year SOB and I lived together, he introduced me to one of the most wonderful things on this planet of ours: Cadbury Creme Eggs. Never before had I known the joy that is a chocolate shell encasing a velvety fondant filling made to resemble an egg. For some reason, my parents had never included these items in our Easter baskets. SOB brought some home from the Acme some random night and after one bite and I was hooked. I especially enjoy them right after breakfast with a cup of hot coffee. Horrible, I know, but something about the sugary sweet candy mixed with the bitter hot coffee just makes for perfection in my mouth.

Alas, anyone with a seasonal food addiction knows the pain associated with cravings that strike months away from product availability. My mother has a debilitating Shamrock Shake problem which usually flares up in October.

After a few blissful weeks of devouring a creme egg every morning, I was dismayed to find them no longer available once Easter rolled by. I was disappointed, but knew it was for the best. My teeth and my waistline were surely suffering. A few months passed, and I barely thought of those confectionery delights, supposedly laid by a bunny that clucks like a chicken.

Until one morning in June, when I was blindsided by a crippling desire that could only be fixed with a creme egg. I gnashed my teeth and tore at my hair. I may have even foamed at the mouth a little. It was all such a blur. All of a sudden, before me, I saw the glint of a foil wrapper. SOB had his hand extended, and in it was a single egg. 'How?' I asked him, with tears rolling down my cheeks. The day after Easter, he had gone back to the Acme and bought up all the remaining eggs on clearance. He knew this day would come, and he wanted to be prepared.

After that incident, SOB would surprise me with an egg every few weeks. He never reveled where he was hiding them, and I never went looking. They lasted well into the fall, and by the time Easter rolled around again, I hadn't had another attack.

Last night SOB stopped at Publix on his way home from work. When he got home, he took one of the shopping bags, tied the top and put it in the closet. I didn't check the contents, but I'm reasonably certain that it's my 2007-2008 egg stash. It looks pretty sizable, which is good news considering the whole pregnancy thing.

Isn't he sweet?