Oh, the badness.

Alexis has taken to a particular late night snack of Sun-Pat peanut butter (Sarah imports it from England and graciously shared a jar with us) and Ghirardelli chocolate chips. The snack goes like this:

First, she dips a teaspoon in the peanut butter, then, smooshes it into a pile of chocolate chips, which are conveniently cradled in her left palm. Then she eats. Then, repeats.

At the end of it, she licks her palm, licks the spoon, opens the silverware drawer and neatly puts the spoon back in its proper place. Suddenly, she looks up and realizes I am standing by the fridge, eyebrows raised and at least one fist on my hip. Her eyes widen in terror and she squeaks: "Did I do something wrong?"

"What you did wrong was let me see that."

"It's perfectly clean, you can't tell the difference!"

And to prove it, she grabs all the spoons in the drawer, shuffles them together and displays them in a fan, looking extraordinarily smug and pleased with herself.

When, in my fury, I threatened to blog it, she dared me to - insisting that were my comments not off, they would be filled with protestations of her innocence. This, I doubt.



(Note: After looking at this picture, she said: "Is that what you see? That *does* look infuriating.")