I'm 26, and I never knew about these. How can this be??
So we were at the grocery store, doing our weekly shopping, when -across from the milk- they called to me. "We're pink!" they squeaked, in a My-Little-Pony-ish voice, "And we're fluffy, too!"
Sure enough, packed in a cellophane-wrapped bakery box, they were individual pompoms of cute edibleness. Upon closer examination, the yummy pink fluff was actually coconut! And I love me some coconut. My squeals of delight could be heard across the dairy section. But as we were at Wal-Mart, this didn't really attract any unusual attention. The only person giving me an odd glance was my husband, who apparently had known about these delightful goodies for some time now.
"Can we, can we??" I pleaded with the master of the grocery budget. My puppy dog eyes were no match for the soft-hearted penny pincher. They were soon riding atop our pile of blah groceries. I pushed our now gleaming cart proudly, envisioning the pink coconutty heaven awaiting me. Dare I rip into them on the way home? No, I resolved, I would control myself until I could enjoy them in [the privacy of] my own home.
Finally, the boring groceries put away, I excitedly opened the package. There were twelve glorious balls of baked goodness. I found a vintage seafoam Lu-Ray bowl and carefully stacked my treasures in a beautiful arrangement, saving one for myself.
My husband, watching this fuss with amusement, stated matter-of-fact-ly- "They're just Snowballs Melissa."
"Snowballs?" I pondered aloud, "What's in them?"
"Chocolate..." DH explained, in a "duh" tone of voice.
"No freakin way!" I exclaimed.
I carefully unwrapped the snowball and tentatively took a bite. The pink coconut covered a generous layer of soft, fluffy marshmallow. And to my obvious delight, there was indeed a mound of chocolate cake waiting inside! But it got better.
"Geez Melissa, stop moaning like that- the neighbors can hear you!" said my exasperated husband. But I was not concerned. I had discovered... wait for it... cream filling!
Certainly I must make up for the 26 years of perfect snack ignorance.
I had 2 more that evening, worrying that my toddler might devour the rest upon her return from an overnight stay with family. Indeed, the moment she spotted them the next day, she shrieked with delight much the way I had done at the grocery store. I begrudgingly presented her with one of my precious treats on a plate, careful not to waste one shred of the lovely pink coconut. She took a tiny bite, mushed it around in her little mouth, and put it back down. She pushed the plate away with a look of disgust. My eyes lit up. My hoard was safe!
But a tiny voice of worry crept in, "What's wrong with my kid?" I wondered, "It's cream-filled chocolate cake covered in coconut-encrusted marshmallow fluff. And it's pink!"
I (worst mom ever) encouraged her to try another bite.
"No, you eat it Mommy!" She shook her head and backed away from the plate.
"She's just too young to appreciate the accomplished flavors," I reasoned. And then I comforted myself with the rest of her snowball.
Why can't she have that attitude with my peanut butter chocolate chip ice cream?