Confessions of a chocoholic father

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My name is Warren Hayden and I like chocolate.

I admit it. We’ve all got a guilty pleasure and chocolate is mine.

We’re a nation of chocolate lovers but I think I like to enjoy it more than most people.

Not just one type either, I’m not fussy when it comes to the sweet stuff.

My favourite is of the milk chocolate variety containing some sort of crunchy nut, preferably hazelnuts.

But I will happily bite into the more bitter dark chocolate and, at a push, a bar of creamy white as well.

As I like to try and be fit and healthy and keep an eye on my calorie count, I do my best not to indulge too often.

Once, after going for a long jog along Southsea seafront and calculating that I’d burnt off around 200 calories, I rewarded myself with a chocolate bar cold from the fridge, just the way I like it.

Then after some inspection of the wrapper, I was surprised to see that the bar that I was eating contained just over 300 calories.

Although I enjoyed giving myself a reward, I was a bit bemused that I needed to do a lot more jogging just to burn off a small bar of chocolate.

There are two times of the year when I probably consume way too much chocolate.

Christmas, of course, with all those large tins of chocolate at every house I visit.

And at Easter – when space is made in the kitchen cupboards for all the Easter eggs and the enormous packaging.

We usually reserve a small section of the fridge to store small bars of chocolate as a treat for the girls and to reward good behaviour.

But now it’s Easter it feels like our fridge, cupboard and entire kitchen have turned into the store room of a chocolate factory.

Unfortunately, none of this chocolate belongs to me.

It was all Easter gifts for my two daughters Caitlin and Alyssa.

Caitlin would eat chocolate all day long if me and her mum let her, so she’ll have no problem getting through the brown stuff.

But Alyssa is only a baby and at the time of writing has just four teeth. She’s only tasted a bit of melted chocolate on her tongue, so she just won’t get through all that has been delivered for her from friends and family.

For me, a self-confessed chocoholic, it is not a good thing for so much chocolate to be in the house.

I worry that if, left alone with my ravenous appetite, I could eat the entire stock in the style of the Tasmanian Devil.

I feel the only way to stop temptation is to get the chocolate out of the house. This will of course be via my mouth. I’m sure Alyssa won’t mind a bit of help.