Why I Love My Husband's Ugliness

A few nights ago, J and I went to his work's holiday party.
A bunch of the guys decided to make it an ugly sweater party.  So I hopped over to the thrift store and bought him a lovely blue turtleneck covered in little cartoon snowmen.  In the same fine establishment I picked up a couple accessories to kick it up a notch, and a hand-knitted, lime green monstrosity for myself in case spouses were expected to participate.  Lucky for me they were not, and so J decided to incorporate the monstrosity into his own ensemble.  Taking care to leave the prominently visible "goodwill" tag on the shoulder for added flair.
Unbeknownst to us, there turned out to be a contest at the party.  It was decided by audience applause, and it wasn't even close.  J won the Ugly Sweater Contest by an uproarious landslide. 
As he claimed his prize, a friend laughing with me leaned in and said jokingly, "Well! Aren't you proud?"  And I answered, "I totally am!"  Not joking at all. 
The thing about J is that he wore that getup walking from the car through six blocks of trendy downtown Friday night crowd and didn't blink. 
He didn't feel embarrassed, and he wasn't showing off.  It was just an ugly sweater party, so he wore an ugly sweater.  And he would have worn it wherever, whenever, and not cared. 
This is one of many things that has always charmed me about J.  I have never met a less insecure person in all of my life.  He really, truly, does not care what anyone thinks about him.  At all.  He does what he likes and what he thinks is the right thing, no matter who is watching, no matter what. 
This goes for being silly and/or weird, and it goes for walking against the crowd when it's something serious, too.  There is no peer pressure strong enough to sway him. 
Which is such a large part of how he is able to pull off one of the other traits that captures my heart over and over; his absolute and immutable integrity.  J always does the right thing.  Always.
As his wife, I appreciate that he's not afraid to be silly and play with our children in front of his friends, and I appreciate knowing that when he tells me something, it is The Truth.  But as the mother of his children, this special immunity to other people's judgements is something I find myself being thankful for every single day.  I hope that by watching his example, they will also learn to be true to themselves.  Whether it's what they like to listen to or wear, or whether it's following their conscience when that internal compass leads them down the harder road. 

Especially now that we have a Mister on the way- a little boy to try and turn into a man as good as His father- and knowing that Little One will probably be in a public elementary school this time next year, I have been thinking ahead about the coming years of raising Littles, and the trickier waters we will be heading into soon.  In a world that can seem angry and unfair, in a world full of cyber-issues I've no idea how to face, and social issues that roil and burn, it is easy to be afraid of navigating those waters.  But what helps me more than anything is knowing that my Littles will always have a mother who loves them just as they are.  And a father to look up to who, when it's time to wear an ugly sweater, wears the ugliest one there is.  And rocks it. 

Epipen Apron- Vegan Maple-Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies

What to do with all those decorative pumpkins from the front step? Hmm. 
How about what I do with anything I can possibly make edible with sugar? Yes!
How about Spiced Pumpkin Cookies?  Yes!
To kick it fully into fall, how about Maple Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies?  In baking, the more adjectives you have to add to the title the better, I think.  So yes.  Of course, since we have our little Littles peeking hopefully over the countertop, we will add Vegan to the lineup.
This recipe was made up by combining and adapting pumpkin cookie recipes from the internet, and Little One helped me think of the icing at the last minute.  They turned out really yummy.  They are fluffy, soft, almost cake-like cookies and while I didn't get a picture of them all dressed up, the glaze makes them shiny and pretty to boot.  Even if you don't usually go vegan in your baking, this one may be worth a try.  And here you go:

Vegan Maple-Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies

Ingredients:

For Cookies






5 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoon baking soda
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup earth balance margarine
3 cups white sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 flax or replacement eggs 
3 cups baked, pureed pumpkin

For Glaze

2 cup confectioners' sugar
4 tablespoons maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Soy Milk 

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 450. 
2. Wash pumpkin, poke holes in sides, set on foil in a baking dish and bake for at least an hour, until very soft. 
3. Reduce oven temperature to 350, and remove pumpkin.
4. Peel pumpkin, remove seeds, and puree in a blender or food processor until very smooth.
5. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, and salt; set aside.
6. Beat margarine and sugar until creamy. 
7. Beat in pumpkin, replacement egg, and vanilla to butter mixture until smooth. 
8. Mix in dry ingredients until well combined. Drop on cookie sheet by tablespoonfuls.
9. Bake 15 to 20 minutes, remove and cool.
10. With a fork, combine sifted confectioners sugar with maple syrup, vanilla, and just enough soy milk (if necessary) to make a smooth icing.  
11. Drizzle over cookies with a fork or glaze with a pastry brush and let set.  
12. Yum.  

Little Mister

Poor little guy.
Third child, two diva older sisters.
He has a lot to compete with for attention already!
I know I haven't talked much about the Little Mister much, but it's not as if we've forgotten him.  In fact, with a belly like this, it's not as if we possibly could!
We are officially "full term" now, just a couple weeks and change from our due date and definitely at the waiting expectantly stage. 
Aaaaannnyy time there, little dude.  Any time at all.
I try to appreciate the experience of pregnancy even though- as I may have mentioned- it's not my thing.  This particular round, in which the nausea never did leave off entirely, among other interesting adventures, is frankly a job I would only go through to get to the best thing in the world.  Which, fortunately, is exactly the point.
While pregnancy isn't on my list of favorite things, babies? Babies I get to keep?  Number one. 
These days I'm enormous and uncomfortable and ready to get the show on the road so I can begin a road to recovery.  But mostly I'm anxious for the finish line because I'm just so so excited to meet this little guy!  I can't wait to see what He looks like, count His toes, hear His voice and sit up exhausted in the middle of the night, snuggling Him and learning about who He is.  Not even Christmas morning could be more exciting to look forward to than all that!
It will be so fun to see what kind of a guy He turns out to be.  So far, he seems pretty chill.
Unlike His sisters before him, who seemed to be doing acrobatics or trying to escape- particularly Missy who I'm pretty sure kept in shape with some cardio kickboxing in there- He has been fairly calm in His little pre-life.  He moves around, but all long it's been mostly languid stretches, maybe shifting position a little.  Around 10pm He gets a little more active each day, but even then His punches and kicks have almost never knocked the wind out of me like Little One and Miss used to do. Such a Little gentleman already.  Whether He will really be as calm out here in the big world, or has just been conserving energy to be a wild little thing, we will have to wait and see. 
I'm a little nervous about His grand entrance, a little nervous about this new prospect of raising a boy, a little nervous about juggling three Littles.  But more than anything I'm feeling blessed.  To have all that to wonder and worry over and look forward to, about having had this uncomfortable but amazing and certainly unique experience of growing a person.  And to think that soon, where we hadn't even realized we had a huge hole in our lives, it will be filled by the perfect missing piece of our family.
Hopefully very soon.
Aaaaaannnyy time now, Mister...

An Overly Opinionated Post

Little one snuggled up for an extra long goodnight hug, and sighed, her lip blooming into a little pout.
"What is it?" I asked
LO: "Mommy...why is it? Why is it you and daddy has always to work so much? All the time?! Why is you always taking care of the house, and cleaning the things, and folding stuff and all those things? Why does you have to work so much?"
C: "Well, Little One, because that's my job right now.  To take care of you and Missy and take care of the house.  I have to try to work hard at my jobs."
LO: "But whaa-hyyyyy? You don't need take care of the house! Its fine! You should do other stuff!"
C: "Oh. What do you think I should do instead?"
LO: "Sleep! Sleep and rest! And color, draw pictures.  And play."
C: "You think I need more playing time."
LO: "Yes! Stop washing all the stuff mama.  You and daddy work too much."

Later, when we'd said our goodnights, I thought about what she'd said.  My first impulse was to feel terribly guilty, jump on the sappy-mom-blog post all us moms have seen a hundred iterations of, and throw down the mop. Let the dust bunnies collect and organize and start a union, and dedicate each of my darling babies' waking hours to coloring fields of flowers, being ordered about in endless games of pretend, and mixing mud pies.
I wanted to, I really did.  For a minute.
And then I remembered that I do all of those things. I do them all! Just not constantly.
And here's the thing about that.  Part of being a good mom is actually taking care of my kids.  Not taking care to cherish them, not taking care to fulfill their every emotional need- taking actual, physical care of them.  Part of that includes making sure that they have healthy meals, clean clothes, and a hygienic environment in which we can all find things and feel at peace.  When did it really become fashionable to let children live in a sty and eat take-out so that mom has more time to play dress-up? And who does that really sound like it benefits?
There's another reason I think I'll hang onto that mop, after all.  While I could try to do it all, play with the children all day and then madly rush to get every chore done while they sleep, I don't actually want them to think that the laundry washes itself and the toothpaste on the counter evaporates overnight.  I want them to know that having a nice life takes work.  I want them to know about work.
I want them to see me work, and know that J has a job and works hard and I have a job and work hard, because that is what grown-ups do. It's certainly what I expect my kids to do, when they are grown up.  And rather than spring that lovely little reality on them all at once around college age, as I've seen done many times, I personally would rather break it to them gradually.  In a way that it becomes a part of the background, the fabric of living, taken for granted that in life you grow up, and you work hard.
So that you can have what you need, so that you can contribute to the greater good of your choice, so that you make goals and meet them, and know what it means to achieve and be productive.  And so that when you have children to provide for, with your job or by personally scrubbing the aftermath of an afternoon of mud pies in the garden, you can do a good job for them.
I know my kids wish I spent all my time revolving around them like tiny suns, letting the rest of the universe take care of itself.  Sometimes, to tell the truth, that's what I dream of too.  Building a duplo city is a lot more appealing than picking up the dog poo in the yard.  But I'm not going to hide behind the "cool moms don't care about chores" trend when I'd rather play.  I'm going to get my stuff done, so we don't all step in it.
And so my kids learn that although they are the center of the little universe inside my heart, always, they are not the actual center of the literal universe, all the time.  Sometimes. We have to be with ourselves.  Or play with our siblings and friends, even if they are less likely to take directives. Or to wait.  And sometimes, actually a lot of times, we have to work.  Hard.  I want my kids to learn that everything is not about them.
And then, when they grow up, if they know how to set goals and persist until they achieve them, how to get along with others and how to be alone sometimes, and how to do their own laundry for Pete's sake; if they look back over a childhood that felt organized and smelled like coconut curry instead of stale laundry, then.  Then I hope they will see that actually, it was all about them, after all.  

The Adventures Continue

Each year, Dr. Allergy likes to get a good, solid idea of where we stand in the world of the Littles' allergies.  Children, still growing and becoming who they are, have minds made for learning.  And bodies, too.  Sometimes, those smart little bodies can learn over time that food is...food.  Not poison.
As you know, Little One has already passed the test on several foods Her body rejected when She was a baby.  So each year we take Her little immune system over to the clinic for some standardized testing, to see if it has learned anything.
Now that Missy is old enough, She gets to be drilled, too.

Literally.
The test involves rows of little pin pricks, each of which is exposed to a drop of something Dr. Allergy suspects could cause a reaction.
Now Little One does quite well in actual school.
But Her punk little immune system is kind of a slacker.  It is totally this guy:

Generally speaking, the thing never does it's homework, and has basically been held back in three different subjects for years.  So Little One's fill-in-the-circle sheet for this round of immunologic exams looked like this:

To see whether Her immune system had learned anything about not mistaking food for poison, and also to make sure it hasn't forgotten what it knew and started to be allergic to new things.  You can never tell with that renegade.
It's quite a lot of pinpricks.  But Little One knew that Missy was next.  That Missy was scared, and watching.  So She smiled through the whole pincushion process.  Moments afterwards, when those spots began to burn and itch, She got very quiet.
I went around front to check on Her, and found Her biting the chair, with tears streaming down Her face.  She didn't want to scare Her sister, so She suffered in silence.  It must have itched like crazy, too.  Because a moment or two was all it took to for Her immune system to start filling out the form.

FAIL.

Happily, there are no new allergies to contend with.  Unhappily, Her immune system has been cutting class and not studying at ALL.  Her allergist tells me not to even bother next year.
Let me put it this way.  A 3mm wheal is what counts as a solid positive reaction on a skin test.  Little One's measured in the high 20's.  Sigh. 
At least we have one motivated immune system in the family- Missy had much better results.

While She is still quite allergic to shellfish (no lobster dinners in this girl's future), Her tests for peaches, egg, and milk were negative!
So, to see if She's really outgrown the allergies, or if they've just improved enough not to flare on a scratch test, Missy's immune system gets to advance to final exams- food challenge.
Missy doesn't seem to quite grasp the implications of this yet (which is just as well since we have learned from Her sister that sometimes it doesn't work out as we hope).  But I'M excited! And Little One, though pretty disappointed with Her own results, is excited for Her sister too.
I will keep you Peanuts posted.  In the meantime, we shall continue to treat nuts, eggs, and milk as if they are radioactive when Little One is around, shall we?  And I can't help but think of Little Mister and muse, as Dr. Allergy did that day, "Hmm.  Wonder what this one has in store for us! Hopefully NOTHING."

Car Wash

Recently, when I knew we had a rough morning ahead of us, I promised the Littles a special treat if they could be patient- the drive-through car wash. 
OOooooooOOOoohhhhH!!!
I like to bribe creatively.  The drive-through car wash is SO exciting, because, well, all that water! And you don't. Even. Get. Wet.  It looks like you might! Ahh! But you don't.  OOoooOOhhh!
They behaved like angels, and even though we agreed it might not be the most thrilling, fantastic drive-through car wash we'd ever experienced, it was still full of awesomeness. 
The awesomeness has continued to be discussed and reenacted with the cozy coupe since. 
This morning I buckled in Missy and observed,
"Yikes! It's getting messy in here! I think we'd better clean out this car today." 
Missy looked around and nodded in consternation,"Oooh, yes.  Lookin' duhty.  So we need 'nudder cah wash, Mama! YAY cah wash time!"
C: "Well, this time I think we need to clean the INside of the car, though."
Miss: "Yep, yes.  The in-sahd.  Hmm.  I have the right a-dea! To clean the in-sahd, we can go to the cah wash, and put the windows down! OK!" 

Not my first thought on a 28 degree morning.  But I'm sure it would be exciting.  

Same Adventures, Different Girl

So, after my last allergy post, I bet you think you know what this is:

Or should I say, who it is.  But since I haven't mentioned it here yet, for some reason, I bet you didn't guess.  Surprise! It's not Little One.
Never one to be shown up by Her big sister, Little Miss has had Her own allergy adventures.
 
The first hint came when I gave Her a shrimp.  She took a bite, screamed, and threw it on the floor.  I turned to pick it up, scolding Her for throwing food, and by the time I was facing Her again, She'd been in a bar fight.  Her eye was swollen up, Her lips were fat.  Hives which could nearly rival a display of Her sister's.  We had a similar adventure with a peach.
So we packed Her off to Little One's allergist, and ran all the battery of tests.  As it turned out, Missy was allergic to:
Shellfish/crustaceans 
Peaches
Eggs
These kids, I'm telling you.  They could at least agree on what to be allergic to together, am I right? At least they have eggs in common.  It's so nice for sisters to share.  
Missy's food allergies aren't quite as sensitive as Little One's, in that if She touches one of those foods She might get a few hives, but probably won't end up in the hospital.  The real danger for Her would be actually eating it.  
But we don't really know for sure.  And, as allergists explain to us, the tough thing about food allergy, especially touch-sensitive allergies, is that every time a body reacts to an allergen, it becomes a little more allergic.  After enough exposures, a tipping point can be reached after which the next reaction could be life-threatening.  No one knows just where that tipping point lies.  It's like Russian-roulette with snacks! Fun. So we are careful with Missy, just the same.  
Recently a friend sent me a thank-you card for a meal I brought when her baby was born.  "Can't wait to return the favor!" it said.  I cracked up at that well-meaning offer.  She doesn't know what she's in for!  It's not like you can just bring us a lasagna. But it is the thought that counts, right?
Seriously you can't feed us anything.  Lucky for us we are a family of adventurous eaters, or we'd just all be surviving on applesauce or something.  In some ways it's been a blessing with the kids- they never had the option to get hooked on pizza or chicken nuggets.  For them, seaweed salad or curried lentils are a treat.  Seriously. 
Lucky for Little Miss that if She had to have food allergies, at least She was born into a family that knows how to deal with them like Paula Deen knows how to melt butter.  Lucky for Her She was born to a family that doesn't make eggs for breakfast anyways, that has a freezer full of vegan muffins already. 
And, as She appreciated on Her first visit to the ER, lucky to have a big sister who has Been There, Done That, and can sympathize, show Her the ropes, and watch Her back.

It makes me both sad and happy to watch them at a party or buffet restaurant, comparing notes on what looks safe and what doesn't.  Or to hear Little One coaching Missy or comforting Her when She feels left out.  
"Don't worry, Miss", Little One said at a recent play date when I refused a friend's offer to share a snack, "It's ok of we can't have that snack.  Mommy always has a snack for you.  Look, see?  Here's some grapes.  You can have grapes, then you and your friend can still eat together.  How 'bout that? You can just eat your own snacks on the same bench together!"
Missy perked up and smiled.  "Yeah! I not 'llergic to grapees! And Littal One you not eithah! You want some? I can share it." 

There's nothing pretty about hives and epipens and worry and fear.  But, like all things, there's always a silver lining.  It's sad that my girls have this extra burden to haul around through life.  Like being my kid isn't enough! But if they have to carry it, at least they have someone to help shoulder it sometimes.  And at least when people come over and it's teriyaki chickpeas and kale for dinner, I can use them as an excuse. 

It Was Too Cold For Lemonade

As it turns out, remote start is a very convenient feature in our car.
Although.  If the car is started, and then you run inside to get something your forgot, and then forget your keys in the house....
Well the car will let you drive it all the way to preschool without them!
But!
When you drop off the Little One, strap in the Missy, and get ready to drive home...not so much.
Not so much starting.  
Oh, well. 
It was a nice, brisk, 45 degree morning to walk a couple miles (8 months pregnant in some high heels.  Ahem.)  Lesson Learned.

Missy and I, though, we don't let little issues like my loss of mental faculties stop us from having a good time!  We took the long walk home, through the neighborhood with all the big trees.  We went on a Leaf Walk, gathering all the biggest and brightest and comparing all the shapes and colors.







We brought them home (eventually) and turned them into a glamorous chandelier- the glitter was Missy's fabulous idea.
 
To tell the truth, I think I'll be a bit more careful about where those fancy keys are when we head out in the future.  But, as it turns out, I can't imagine a better way to have spent the morning.
One of the greatest joys of a life among the Littles is the freedom to make lemonade out of lemons.  Or chandeliers out of leaves. 

Ears and Feet

It was raining.
Missy was concerned, because She had on Her special Kitty Ears from Halloween, and didn't want them to get wet.

C: "It's ok, Missy, it's not raining too hard. You and your kitty ears can just run to the car really fast and it will all be fine!"

Missy: "Yes! I can run! No problem!"

C: "Great! Let's go!"

Missy hesitates, "But Mom! Oh no! My kitty ears they CAN'T run! Because them hasn't have any LEGS oh Feeeeet!" 

C: "But..... you do, and they can ride on your head, there."

Missy: "Oh. Yeah.  That wuhks too."

CPD

 I have a Project Problem.  
My husband says it's like I have third-trimester nesting tendencies- but ALL the time.  It's bad enough to deserve a solid diagnosis-style acronym:  CPD- Chronic Project Disorder.
Disorder being the really operative word, since there tends to be bits of paper, flour, ribbon and thumbtacks littering my path of destruction whenever I have an outbreak of creativity. 
It's a genetic flaw.  My mother is constantly and eternally sewing and planning renovations on her house.  My father is always tinkering with something, adding raised garden beds and moving boulders around.  My sister is the worst of us all and has the etsy site to prove it.  You should see the damage that occurs when any of us are together! We tend to emerge from simple visits paint-stained, bruised, and covered in sawdust.
There's just something exciting about looking at something and seeing what it might be.  And so, in my house, we have a 1919 gas tank which is now an end table.  We have a 1970's oak file cabinet reborn as a shiny puzzle organizer.  There was the garish thrift-store prom dress

which became this tea party table

and this dress-up outfit

Not to mention the craigslist bunkbed

which became a two-story mini-bedroom suite

Or the junkyard ballet barre and used birthday decorations that found a second life.

And about a zillion other things.  As my dear J would put it, there's always something.  

My family is a bunch of can't-sit-still and let-it-be-ers.  And it seems clear that I have passed this mutant CPD gene on to my Little One.  She wants to save everything.  

The moment any object begins to travel in the direction of a trash can, bulbs begin flashing like siren-lights over Her head.  Toilet-paper rolls become jeweled telescopes, scraps of fabric become patchwork tapestries, twist-ties become beaded rings and bracelets.  

Most recently, She fought tooth and nail to Save The Oatmeal Container! because we didn't have a wastebasket in the powder room and it would be perfect.  And it would be recycling, mom.  

Well, a little contact paper and She was right.

After Her birthday Blessing Bag project, we had this big pile of protein bar boxes ready for recycling. 

Only to Little One, they weren't trash.  They were a project.  Waiting to happen.

LO: "Mom! Mom no! No DON'T throw them away! I need them for a PROject! For a-a-a...um....I know.  I know! We could use them to decorate!"

C: (incredulous look)

LO: "Jus' listen, mom, jus' listen.  We could... make faces on them! Right?  Like a Jack-lantern.  Then we could paint them orange- cuz I know you has some paint out there in the garage there and it would be perfect mom- and then they would look just. like. pum-kins,  for....HALLOWEEN!! Is that jus' perfect?!" 

As She spoke, my CPD began to itch and swell, and by the time She finished I had a full-blown outbreak.

C: "Why... Little One...it WOULD be perfect! I love it! GET THE PAINT!"

And so. Little one took a marker and made spooky faces on each box.  Missy and Banana chipped in and did a few, as well.  I cut out along the lines.

Then I sprayed them with paint leftover from another project. 

We made sure the faces were oriented so that the open sides were at the bottom.  That way we could add a string of lights underneath, and get a real jack-o-lantern glow.
I have to say, for a pile of empty boxes, they do look pretty festive.  And the Littles and I had quite a bit of fun indulging in our mental illness together.

We're thinking some ghosts would be good, next.  Then We'll have a whole Halloween line up! Ghosts, Pumpkins- and the Pinterest Monsters I've created. 

Halloween

With all the surgery recovering going on, I didn't think we'd have much Halloweening happening around here. 
We were ok with that, having rocked the pre-surgery school carnival and the awesome costume party thrown by the family of the famous O.

But we did carve our pumpkins.

And then Missy recovered quickly and was all about some trick or treating.  Little One agreed that staying in to hand out candy would be best for Her, but She still felt it to be gravely important that She do so in costume.
Not just any costume.
Due to an avid interest in a particular couple of boys at school, Little One has developed an intense fondness for BATMAN.  You have to say it in all caps, you know.  It's like a rule.
While I'm not overly fond of the origin of this interest, I do have to admit that BATMAN is awesome.
Little Miss had no confusion over Her preference, either.  Have I mentioned it often enough for you all to understand how much She loves cats? Ask Her what She wants to be when She grows up. 
So the day of Halloween, I threw together some last minute costumes. 
I sewed some snaps onto the shoulders of these walmart PJs so that I could add a cape, which was fashioned out of a couple thrift-store T-Shirts.  I refuse to explain why I already had the glasses.  But they were just the thing. 

Missy got a thrift store outfit too, complete with sparkly kitty shoes, and the ears and tails were made from a felt sheet and some cotton.  A little eyeliner and BOOM.

Kitty.
It was pretty hastily cobbled together, but the girls were thrilled.  In fact, Little One was so filled with the superhero persona imbued in Her cape, that She decided to brave the streets and Trick-or-treat, too.
 
So we left the candy out with a note, and went together as a family for the first time ever. 

It was a perfect, warm night, and we had so much fun.  Our neighborhood is fantastic at Halloween.  Most homes are decorated and handing out treats, and there are some blasting the Monster Mash, running fog machines, or handing out bags full of goodies with costumed grown-ups popping out of the bushes.

We brought the stroller along to help them make the trek.  Though Little One tired out and just rode along some of the way, we all had a great time and even in our short venture hauled in plenty of goodies.
 
When we got home, the kids immediately began sorting candy into "grown-up" and "kid" piles, according to allergy contents.  Their baby brother has had quite a lot of chocolate lately.

We watched a Halloween Word World, brushed teeth twice, and ended the evening with happy smiles.   While I confess I have been consuming an unimaginable amount of chocolate since these escapades, the real treat was to watch the magic on their faces.  Not much could be sweeter.