Forbidden fruit

They say the road to hell is a slippery slope, a slope in which I have picked up speed on. I have tasted the forbidden fruit and I liked it. I am not sure if I am suppose to admit that out loud  or maybe the very least I should have my butt planted in the confessional. All I can say is I am just might understand Eve on a whole new level. The sisterhood is alive and well. 

It all started out innocently enough. A quick dairy stop at Whole Paycheck late one evening. On the way out I made the boy who lives on air to pick out a piece of fruit from the free children snack bin. We debated on what fruit that he should choose, pondering the qualities and taste of each. We wasted a good 5 minutes in discussion. He finally settled on an apple. An apple we both knew he would never eat. Maybe one day he would have the desire and would fall back on our conversation that we had late one evening at Whole Paycheck. 

First, the apple sat all by itself in the van. It did look lonely. It was finally brought into the house where it sat on the counter. Now at this point I can neither confirm or deny that it may have been calling my name. So late one evening I snuck downstairs and carved that baby up. The first bite, I was in heaven. Nirvana has been reached. Of course the child with radar ears, bounced up to me pleading, "please can I have a bite"?

Sitting in the dark recess of the my closet with my daughter, we chewed away while the clock struck midnight. We both agreed it was the very best apple we had ever tasted. Did it taste so good because it was essentially forbidden fruit, a fruit that belonged to someone else? Had my daughter and I entered onto the road of crime. Would our next criminal spree garner us a bigger pay haul, perhaps an orange or even a cantaloupe.