This morning I spent a good 35 minutes helping my son look for the chocolate bar he’d hidden in the back of the cupboard the night before. We never found it though, mainly because I’d eaten it last night… along with the rest of the ice cream and red wine. And hey, before you judge me, what else are you supposed to eat when watching The Real Housewives of Melbourne?
Okay, so yes, I have guilty pleasures (and yes I mean plural). We all know what a guilty pleasure is right? It’s film, food, television program or a piece of music that we appreciate in private, in secret, or probably both. These aren’t necessarily bad, but maybe we enjoy them a bit too much or too often. Judge away people, judge away. Those without sin cast the first stone right?
The thing is, with three children I get to enjoy very little of these simple pleasures, and very little of these whilst alone anymore. Especially when it comes to my food. I swear that my kids were born with both ultra-sonic hearing and smell so that the MINUTE I open anything tasty, they appear at my feet like puppies. But just not as cute.