You know what sucks? One time, you eat an entire plate of Valentine's cookies left on your doorstep, lie about eating them, and then hide the evidence, which your husband inevitably finds. Then for the rest of your life, anytime sweets go missing, the obvious choice is you. It doesn't matter that you might not have had dinner that particular evening, or that you were emotionally fragile at the very time, someone decided to ditch a plate of frosted cookies on your stoop. Nope. The only thing SOME PEOPLE remember, is that you ate every last one, even though sugar cookies are their favorite. What-ev.

Tonight, we enjoyed a lovely, albeit unoriginal ward Christmas Party. Any Mo would know what I am talking about, and although it is the same every year, one can never have too many traditions. After a dinner of ham, funeral potatoes, salad and roll, we released the Hoodlums to stand in line for a chat with Santa. Dawson wants nunchucks and Wii games, Dyl froze, and Em wants princess stuff and spark-ly shirts. Easy Peasy.

The real problem came when we made it home and the Hoodlums wanted to eat the chocolate out of their advent calenders. We didn't remember the calenders until yesterday, so they got to eat 3 pieces, and Dave promised them we could catch up tonight. However, as they scurried up to the table, we started to hear murmurings about "somebody ate a bunch of my chocolates."

Upon further inspection, someone had indeed eaten several pieces out of all three advent calenders. The Boys swore it wasn't them, and that is when David turned on me. He kind of shook his head, like, really? I swore it wasn't me, but David countered that I was the only one home all day, and that the kids were not strong enough to break the seals, and yadda, yadda. I could have killed him, but looking at the kids hurt faces and him looking at me like I was a pathetic pile, I just started laughing. It seemed ridiculous, since that chocolate is so disgusting and cheap, but I felt totally cornered, and my laughing only increased their suspicion.

Dave felt the need to further humiliate me, by placing the following sign on the calenders, as a way to deter future chocolate burglars, all the while continuing to passively accuse me. "For hell's sakes, Linsey, they are only 7, 5, and 2. Merry Christmas to them."

For the record, I did not eat the damn candy. As long as we are placing blame, I am going to go ahead and put my money on Dyl. He is crafty, and cunning, and as we were tucking him in tonight, he said, "I might have sneaked an extra one this morning....I can't really remember." Uh huh.

Dave doesn't put any stock in that though, because he says Dylan is smart enough to not eat extra out of his own calender. I am pretty sure Dyl is smart enough to eat a few pieces from his own, in order to deflect suspicion, after all he is my kid.

Dawson and Dylan discover an unattended bucket of ice cream.