Chocoholic Family
After listening carefully to insure that he was alone in his man cave, Booth slipped the bag of chocolate chips out of the crevice between the seat cushion and armrest of his recliner, unclipped the clothespin holding it shut, unrolled the top of the plastic bag, and shook a portion of the tiny treats into his palm. Leaning back, he opened wide, dumped the tasty handful into his mouth, chewed them slowly, and closed his eyes; savoring their rich flavor and creamy texture. He loved being a grown-up, with the freedom to enjoy his favorite snacks anytime he wished, without parents or Pops telling him he'd spoil his dinner. His Grams had been quite strict about eating too close to mealtimes.
Of course, Brennan was a conscientious eater, and carefully monitored the healthy diets of her family, but Booth had circumvented her proclivity for insisting on nuts and fruit. He'd learned where to squirrel away various chocolate delights to satisfy his sweet tooth. Or so he thought. In reality, Brennan knew all his favorite hiding places and sampled his stash in judiciously small quantities from time to time, carefully consuming only a few pieces of candy to avoid detection. Although she was loath to admit it, Brennan was just as much a fan of chocolate as her husband.
Christine had apparently inherited her parents' mutual admiration for the cacao tree (Theobroma cacao), for her drink of choice at the Jeffersonian daycare had always been chocolate milk, whenever such a special occasion treat was allowed. Now that she was in elementary school, she always selected chocolate milk from the cafeteria's cooler. Baby Hank was too young to have experienced this delicacy, but Brennan privately joked to herself that she'd not be surprised if her son tasted chocolate when she nursed him.
Three weeks before Christmas, Booth awakened early on Saturday morning, slipped down to the kitchen and prepared his 'world famous chocolate chip pancakes' to coax his sleepy wife and kids out of bed. Garnishing a tray with her favorite free range Civet Kopi Luwak coffee steaming in a brand new Christmas mug, Booth returned upstairs to their bedroom. After placing the heavy laden tray on her bedside table, he woke both kids. Christine clambered drowsily onto their bed as Booth placed Hank in his wife's arms. The little boy jabbered happily, patting his mommy's cheeks with his chubby little palms.
"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Bones! Chop, chop! Literally!" We've got to go cut down our Christmas tree this morning. And while we're at it, we're taking Michael Vincent to pick out one for Hodgins and Angela! Don't want to keep your best little buddy waiting, do you, Chrissy? Go get dressed as soon as you gobble down your pancakes!" Booth's jovial urging was met with a grumpy complaint from his wife.
"Booth, how can you be so irritatingly cheerful this early in the morning, especially on a Saturday?"
One of the most amusing revelations about his Bones had been that she was not a morning person. This intrigued Booth because she always arrived quite early for work at the lab, and he'd assumed she enjoyed getting a head start on her days.
"Come on, Bones, I've got the digital kettle brewing hot water for cocoa right now. I found a new kind of organic hot chocolate at Sprouts Market earlier this week. They were handing out samples, and it's yummy. I bought a box especially to celebrate our Christmas tree selection shopping expedition!"
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True to his word, Booth brought along three thermos bottles filled with thick creamy luscious hot chocolate. He had filled thermal sippy mugs for the children to enjoy in the car, and handed Brennan a travel mug of hot chocolate once they were all belted into the SUV. His supply was ample enough to warm them halfway during their search for the perfect tree, and another refill once the tree was loaded onto the roof of his truck. Despite the totally unscientific likelihood that one's beverage could affect eye color, Brennan was becoming convinced that she and Christine would soon have brown eyes like Booth and Hank instead of their normal blues.
Having found two perfect trees, Booth delivered Michael Vincent and an enormous blue green Noble fir to the Hodgins estate, then returned his family to the warmth of their mid-century Mighty Hut II. Once he'd centered the fragrant Balsam fir in front of their living room window, he climbed into the attic and handed down boxes of lights and ornaments.
Her holiday spirits rejuvenated by an afternoon spent napping in Booth's embrace, Brennan took a turn brewing more hot chocolate for the evening's decorating marathon. Booth untangled the Christmas light strands like so much DNA, then wound and wove them into a sparkling web within the dark green boughs. As Christine danced to Christmas music, Hank jabbered and waved his arms excitedly, watching their parents unwrap each ornament and its memories. The chocoholic Booth family Christmas was underway.