Coco and I were driving around getting some errands done. She’s learning how to put inflections into her speech. She sounds like a mini adult human.

What was the name of that song mom?

she says slapping her hand on her lap. It’s as we’ve bonded for years while swilling down a few cold brews after work. We can finish each other’s sentences.

When we went into one store, and this is a huge store, she kept asking more to get something at the next store. This irks me a bit especially since she was carrying around a cute little basket for room I was going to buy here. She’s always planning out what’s next on the agenda and what she can get out of it. Occasionally I need to shock her back into the moment, just a bit.

Did you know that they keep a wolf in the back room to eat small children that bug their mom for things over and over again? I was sure to set my tone in a serious manner to be believable.

She looked at the front of the store in search of the room with the waiting wolfs. She believed it for a minute, and that was all I needed.

O.k. mom.

We continued on, checked out, and went on with our day just like two good friends have been for years and years.

The fountain of youth is in Costa Rica. Forget everything else you thought you knew about other devises designed to stretch, perk, beautify, and resist the forces of gravity pulling in evil ways on fleshy parts of your body. Drop them all!

The SECRET TO LIFE IS HERE!

AND IT EXISTS IN COSTA RICA!

In fact in Costa Rica there are actually many “fountains of youth” and they all grow in trees.

The first is:

CHOCOLATE.

Now before you throw that bag of M&M’s in your grocery cart, you have to know a few things. And one is: the bag of M&M’s in your grocery cart will kill you, not save you. So what is the deal with chocolate?

The funny thing is….you have to eat it raw. See, we humans, we tend to screw with nature, thus we muss it all up. Take, for example, our water supply. How many of you are drinking a “bottled water” today?

The list goes on and on. We were given all these great gifts, these delightful foods, and we process the hell out of them so they look so much unlike the product they used to be that we have to remold them back into the shape that form some sort of resemblance to the product they once were. Molded chicken products come to mind….boxed milk rings a bell…..fish sticks (I don’t get that one!)…those are just a few.

There is no denying the fast food is here - the potato chips, the soda pop - Costa Rica has not been immune to the processed food generation. But it can be avoided because there is so much more, and so close. I get organic, fresh food delivered twice a week to my door. The delivery charge is about $2.00.

Chocolate grows on trees in Costa Rica. It doesn’t take long to sniff out a friend or a friend of a friend who can get you the seeds. You can order it on-line and spend about $10.00 per 8 oz. In Costa Rica, I found a local at the beach who picks me a pod. This person is not an anomaly; it’s not hard to find a local that will help you get some of these raw treats. In fact, ask and someone will find it for you. Once dried, you can peel off the skin (some do eat the skin) and magic! You are biting into one of the secrets of living happily, healthy, and full of vim and vigor.

“Fresh cacao beans are super-rich in antioxidants…..They are one of the richest sources of antioxidants of any food…..Twice that of red wine or green tea.”
Naked Chocolate by David Wolfe and Shazzie

The benefits go on and on, way too much to note here. I suppose we’ll have to have installments. But the point is, this is a simpler country and the raw, natural products - the ones that may end up saving us all in the end - still exist here.

And it’s not just chocolate. There’s the coconut, the avocado, and all sorts of funny fruits I still don’t know what to do with. And you should see our cows. Happy critters they are munching grass and milling about in fields. I think that’s the way IT was intended, wasn’t it? Before it’s too late, pick one of the seeds that the heavenly tropics have to offer and eat the joy. Feel the difference.

And, it makes for one heck of a chocolate milkshake.

Addison rested against my chest bone, his legs are so much longer than I remembered. As I walked back and forth to lull him into a deeper sleep, I wondered what life would be like for him, for me.

Already, he has shown me so much. And strong. He’s already survived major surgery and resolved four other medical problems without a further stitch. I admire his fortitude, his strength.

I try not to plan out his journey and leave that up to him. These are areas a mother can get into trouble. I find the more I step back from my children and allow them the space to crawl, roll, fall and get up on their own, the more the find their own strength.

The other day, I was showing Coco how I could whistle - really loud - with my two fingers in my mouth. Addison sat mesmorized. He studied me. I whistled again. Then, he stuck his fingers into his mouth and made a blowing sound. Coco laughed. I whistled again, and he copied me again. This time we all laughed.

Addison will conquer the whistle, for he’s already done so much. And maybe, I’m the really lucky one because I get to listen.

Addison has discovered rock and roll. Coco got a CD from a birthday party of some oldies. Addison does not like to eat food with me, he prefers the good stuff, the mother’s milk. But, he’s also started a nasty habit of biting down. And, as one would imagine, this hurts.

To divert his attention from me, we turn on the rock and roll. Addison sits in front of the CD player and wiggles his hands in the air, claps, and scoots. Today, he figured how to turn up the volume.

So, Elvis and the Beach Boys live on - right on into the jungle.

The kids were in bed. I’d made it. The next twenty minutes were mine! All mine! The Easter baskets sat on the dining room table with a carrot for the Easter Bunny to fill up and to nibble (on the latter).

We’d spent the day managing my son’s cold, which sounds like a horse dog’s cough – tos del perro, according to the Ticos. After hours of carrying him to and fro, he finally zonked out at 6:30 while rolling around on the floor listening to the dim chatter of a cartoon. The night ahead would be full of mucous, wheezing, sticky honey tinctures, and pacing the cold tile floor with baby in tow. I rushed to hide the baskets.

Funny thing…I’m not much of an Easter Bunny gal. The French bell sounds intriguing, but this giant bunny that hops around the house. How does he get in? What does he have to do with Jesus? Why doesn’t he leave in any….um…rabbit reminders? Well, I had so much fun filling the basket and buying the little trinkets; I shrugged all the logic off and set off to find better spots for the baskets than last year.

Secure in the thought Coco was brushing her teeth and putting her pajamas on, I found hiding spot number 1 for Addison: in the Tupperware cupboard. Hiding spot number 2 for Coco’s basket: under the small sofa that nobody sits in. Hiding spot number 3 for the nanny: in the toy cupboard. I’d just nibbled on the carrot and was heading back to the refrigerator with the ½ used bag of jelly beans, when….I was busted! Coco stood next to me. I was speechless.

Where are the baskets?

I looked at the table and saw the ½ eaten carrot.

They’re in the front room. Yeah! That’s it! That’s where I put them last year, and I didn’t want to confuse the Bunny.

I ran and grabbed the carrot and held it up high so she wouldn’t see it.

What are you doing with those jelly beans in your hand?

Oh, these? They’re for the guard. Yeah! That’s it! I wanted to give him a bag of jellybeans. Poor guy, he has to work on Easter Sunday.

I looked at the clock. It was 6:40.

Oh my gosh! The Easter Bunny won’t come to children’s house if they know they are up after 6:30!

Panic rushed over Coco’s face.

Quick, I hear something. I said.

She dashed up stairs. We heard the nanny come in. She’d been out all day.

Oh thank goodness, I said. It wasn’t the Easter Bunny.

This is the last year I’m going to get away with this. I’ll probably pay for all this fibbing I’m passing off on my daughter. But, I like call it story telling, imagination, if you will. Maybe, just maybe I missed my calling because I put on one hell of an act.

I snarl, sometimes, about these “traditions,” yet I have to admit – at some point – thrilled that I get to sneak all the black jelly beans.

Another moment to step aside and be grateful for all those things we have (and a few we have not).

• I am grateful that I am not that guy across the street carrying bags of cement in a construction zone.
• I am grateful my dogs have cute snouts.
• I am grateful for Wi-Fi.
• I am grateful my cellulite has reduced to resembling just a few splattered teaspoons of cottage cheese.
• I am grateful no one hides behind bushes and takes pictures of my thighs with those few remaining teaspoons.
• I am grateful for the full-service at all the gas stations in Costa Rica.
• I am grateful I do not have a wobble.
• I am grateful the Caribbean Coast in Costa Rica is undiscovered (shhhh, don’t tell anyone).
• I am grateful Eddie Izzard is going to be in a new television show.
• I am grateful my all the children’s teeth are coming in straight.
• I am grateful my hat is in the ring, for yet another day.

It’s not raining at my house. Thus…it is hot!

Everywhere I go, there is rain. And, I love the rain! But, we still have the winds, which are incredibly annoying, and constipated rain clouds that hover over the house in the afternoon.

As I drove home the other day, each town I went through was being soaked in rain. It was gorgeous and smelled like life starting all fresh and shiny and new. I could see our neighborhood ahead, and sure enough, the cloud truncated a mile before our turn. The streets were dry, and we continued to be stale.

The funny thing is….I really need the rain! My son’s nose reacts to some hidden, conniving pollen that wafts through the air. When it rains, the pollen tamps down that little sucker, and we all breath better. We all sleep better.

So I’m going to do the hokey-pokey and turn myself around. That should get it rolling. It sure got kindergarten hoppin’.

Sometimes we need to revert to our old tricks.

That’s what it’s all about.