Chocolate for a Good Cause

During a trolley tour of the town of Hershey today, we learned that Milton Hershey, the founder of the eponymous chocolate company, did not have children – so no heirs to his vast fortune.  Instead, at the turn of the 20th century, he and his wife founded the Milton Hershey School to serve orphaned boys.  After his wife died, he seeded the Milton Hershey School Trust with $63 million to ensure the future of the school; today, the trust is worth more than $7 billion and is the controlling owner of the privately held Hershey company.  Needless to say, the school is now one of the wealthiest private schools in the world, serving 1,900 underprivileged boys and girls in grades K-12.

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1260 Calories

That’s the number of calories in the six (yes, count ’em) full-size Hershey Bars we received when we checked in at Hershey Lodge about 40 minutes ago.  Four because we are a family of four, plus two more attached to a cute birthday card addressed to Sophie and signed by 10 employees of the hotel.

When the front desk receptionist told us that she was going to give us a little welcome chocolate, I expected a Hershey’s Kiss or maybe a mini-package of Kisses.  Clearly, they are not particularly concerned with the climbing obesity rates in the U.S.  Welcome to the Chocolate Capital of America.

Sophie is Bored

Sophie is bored.  We are not paying enough attention to her.  “I’m annoyed by blogs.  I’m annoyed by everything.”  Even cuddling wasn’t enough for her.  She wanted to play.  What did she want to play?  I have no idea.  Because she wouldn’t say.  Coloring challenges didn’t enthuse.  Stickers didn’t excite her.  “You’re all busy and I’m not and it’s not fair,” she complained.

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Who Can Resist This Face?

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Sophie allowed me to put her hair back today for the first time in several weeks.  She also allowed me to change her earrings, after being traumatized by a somewhat worrisome experience in France when one of her earrings actually embedded itself inside her ear.  Yes, that sounds gross and it was gross, but it’s all in the past.

And all is better now.  Sophie’s wearing lovely blue sterling silver earrings that I bought for her as a pre-birthday gift and has her hair up so that she can show off her lobes.  She’s a picture of perfection at almost six years old.  And she still loves to cuddle.

 

Hormones?

Chloe has been going through a phase recently.  A cranky, way-too-emotional phase.  Whether it’s getting irrationally upset in response to her Grammy trying to do something nice for her or because she can’t go to a birthday party taking place on a weekend we’re going to be away (at Hershey Park, no less, which she was over the moon about when we planned it a couple of weeks ago), I’m seeing a new, somewhat perplexing side to her.  

Listen, I know my big girl is not always the easiest kid to deal with.  She’s smart, she’s intense, she speaks her mind without first editing herself, she can be mean to her little sister.  But these most recent outbursts have caused me to wonder whether an alien being has infiltrated her brain.  
Could it be that the late nights over the summer have finally caught up with her?  Could it be the onset of puberty?  Are the hormones starting to rage?  Should I stop trying to find excuses for her behavior and accept the fact that she’s just being a pain in the ass for no good reason?  As much as I would love to assign a cause to her rants and raves, I’m leaning towards the latter.  
I love Chloe more than words can say.  But boy, can she be exasperating sometimes.  For a kid who always acts fairly mature for her age, who’s extremely astute and verbal for a 10-year old, she’s a conundrum.  And yet, the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree – she’s a lot like me, so I shouldn’t be so surprised.  Hell, when I was 10, I was pulling similar stunts.  Not for nothing, my parents’ nickname for me was El Exigente (“the demanding one”).  Even worse, I started in with my antics when I was still officially a toddler.  When my brother was an infant I asked my mom if we could throw him down the garbage incinerator in our Queens apartment building (I’m very glad she refused my request – my brother has turned into a lovely man).  
So, Chloe, if you’re reading this, please don’t take this post the wrong way or get upset with me for writing about you.  I love you very, very much.  You remind me of me.  Indeed, you’re a little like a mini-me.  But cut the crap already!  Tell the alien it’s time for it to return to its home planet. 

A Mom's Ramblings About the Marvels & Mishaps of Parenting, the Joys of Family Travel & the Writing Life