It both is and isn’t about the chocolate chocolate muffin

A New Year's lesson in building our emotional selves, brought to you by my misery-stricken toddler

When Alice, my now almost-3-year-old toddler, wakes up in a happy and contented mood, she takes great delight in breakfasting on one of her current favorite foods: the “chocolate chocolate muffin.”

I don’t just mean the sweet, gooey richness of the muffin itself, though that is obviously a deal-making quality, but the whole ritual of seeing me pop it into the microwave; hearing the “beep” that signals the hot, steaming goodness about to be placed on a pink plate before her (the pink plate is non-negotiable); pulling open the wrapper all by herself, when she can manage it (or else handing it to me for an assist); blowing on the muffin gingerly until it goes from “hot” to “warm”; poking little holes in the muffin and cheerily announcing that she has done so—all before she has even taken her first eager bite. If ever I needed a living exemplar of mindful eating, this would certainly be it. 

I describe this fond ritual bittersweetly, because for the past 3-4 mornings, Alice has been having…