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Dark Chocolate
He Said “Dark Chocolate” — So We Bought A Mountain Of It
So I messaged Dad on WhatsApp: “Do you have any preference? What would you like for your birthday?” His reply: two words. Dark chocolate.
Not “a nice tie”, not “socks”, not “a day out” — just dark chocolate. I suspected he was being practical: he’s the sort of guy who’s generous to everyone and saves a little dignity (and sweets) for himself. Makes sense. Also — and this is honest — no one else in the family likes really dark chocolate, so it’s the perfect selfish gift.
“Secretly I think he just wants to have dark chocolate because no one else likes it and he can keep it to himself.”
So me and my daughter turned it into a mission. We spent the day going round every shop and supermarket with a label that said “dark chocolate”, testing, choosing and buying like two tiny chocolate-obsessed National Treasures. The result: two massive hampers with about 40 dark-chocolate items — bits from M&S, Waitrose and a few hidden gems. My daughter individually wrapped each item (which, honestly, will probably mildly piss him off at age 80), but I know the truth: when he unwraps the first proper bar and realises we went full fancy on him, his face will do that tiny, private smile. That wins everything.
What I learned
- Ask a direct question — you’ll get the best, simplest answer. (“Dark chocolate.” OK then.)
- Turning a simple request into a ridiculous, loving production is allowed. In fact, it’s encouraged.
- Let the granddaughter do the wrapping. The mild irritation later is emotional interest; the payoff is priceless.
We included some proper grown-up dark stuff (M&S, Waitrose) and a scattering of supermarket favourites. Forty items is excessive and perfect. He’ll keep some, he’ll share a little, and mostly he’ll have dignity, a quiet moment and a stash of bars that will make him grin every now and then — which was the whole point.
So if tomorrow is a beautiful day for him, then mission accomplished. If he rolls his eyes because everything is individually wrapped like a child’s parade of parcels, I’ll take that too. Victory comes in many forms.
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