Chocolate: More Reliable than a Blood Test

DNA? Feh! I scoff at your DNA! My son has just proven that he is, indeed, the child of my loins, grandson to my mother, great-grandson of my grandmother.

Apple-oatmeal cereal? Eh.
Graham crackers? Whatever.
Egg noodles? To the floor with you, tasteless vermin!
Milk? Pfffffft!

Individually wrapped Cote d’Or dark chocolate?

GimmieItGimmieItGimmieIt {chomp chomp chomp}

My undisputed son, child of my very own womb, unconditionally approves of dark chocolate of the 56% cocoa variety. He has thus far consumed two (2) entire little bars of them.

The first one he approached with a touch of caution. He picked up the broken off piece and sniffed it, then cautiously placed it in his mouth, ready to spit it out if it offended.

Then, he stuffed the rest of the pieces into his mouth at a pace that might someday win him titles in hot dog eating contests. When they were gone, he hung over the edge of his highchair hooting anxiously until another bar was proffered.

Which he also stuffed rapid-fire into his mouth. Which resulted in him looking like this:
Yup. Definitely my child. Noooooooo question.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I myself have a 100 gram bar of ‘INTENSE 70% CACAO’ Cote d’Or, and a bathtub full of hot water, and some bubble bath, and a serving of fruit with my name on it.