Eve ate the apple, I ate the brownie

I just baked a pan of brownies for the first time since my son was diagnosed with Type 1 a year and a half ago. He’s allowed to eat treats, but we banned the ooey gooey squares of chocolate ecstasy when he was dx’ed because there is NOTHING healthy about brownies. Seriously. The ingredients are butter, sugar, eggs, flour, and chocolate.

So why did I change course after eighteen months? I’d love to say my son twisted my arm while we stood in the baking aisle of the grocery story, but honestly, it was my fault. I had been scrolling through Pinterest before we went shopping–something one should NEVER EVER do–and I encountered this photo:images

A stack of rich, chocolatey, caramel-ly heaven, wouldn’t you agree? Ah, but my brownies don’t look anything like this. They are flat and the caramel baked into the batter yielding a brown sticky mess. And worse, they kind of taste like Yoohoo, a beverage that defies categorization–is it milk? is it soda?  Bleh.

So what to do with a pan of 1″ x 2″ squares that pack 180 cal, 7g fat and 28 carbs each? I’d love to file them in the trashcan, but my son is near tears because he ate a salad for lunch (“rabbit food!” he screams), just so he could enjoy a brownie for dessert. So, I guess I’ll do what any weak-willed mom who hates to admit defeat would do: I’ll serve brownies for dessert.  Horrible mom award coming my way…

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