Godiva
Dave's brother gives us Godiva chocolates for Christmas every year. This year's package arrived late last week, so last night we sat on the couch and sampled some. More than some. Quite possibly a lot. Usually we're pretty good about clearing out evidence of the previous nights depravities before Henry gets up, but when rosy-fingered dawn made her appearance this morning, the coffee table was littered with boxes of chocolate. Despite having made note of that fact, I did nothing about removing them because we were in full two-hour-snow-delay-on-this-particular-school-morning swing, and Henry didn't seem very interested anyway, not with Mickey Mouse doing the hot dog dance on TV. So I went about making his lunch, getting breakfast for us, and getting myself dressed for the day. At one point I heard the slightest of rustles, but after a moment's pause, didn't hear it again, and so I carried on. Finally I gave my hair one last fluff, came back out to the living room, and what vision should greet me? You've probably already figured it out. Several of the boxes no longer had lids, and next to them stood Holly, contentedly sucking on what was left of a dark chocolate truffle. She looked very pleased. She was probably wondering where we've been hiding the good stuff while she gets stuck with the cheap milk chocolate from her advent calendar. I'm sure the oatmeal she got for breakfast right after was a total letdown. I'm kind of proud of her though. She chose well.