It's my birthright not to screw this up.

My mother makes fudge every Xmas. My whole life she's been trying to show me how so that when she's gone someone can carry on the tradition, but I never paid attention. Tomorrow I am going to try my hand at fudge, because chemo has made her too tired to do it.  I'll need to borrow her heavy pan, and maybe the plastic cake pans she uses for it to cool in.  Wish me luck, because I heard that if you screw it up you get grainy fudge that never sets up.

His choco aches

"Tommy eat your spaghetti!"
"Choco meelk!"
"You can have milk after you eat. I'm tired of you only drinking milk; you have to eat lunch!"
"Cookies! My cookies!"  He climbs up onto the chair to reach for the long-empty cookie jar on the counter behind it.
"There aren't any cookies. We stopped putting cookies in there a long time ago.  If you start eating your lunch and dinners again, maybe we'll buy cookies again.
He reaches to open the cookie jar. "My cookies!"
"Fine.  Look all you want.  There aren't any cookies."  I take the lid off the cookie jar and tip it for him to see. He reaches in.
"My aches!"  His what? His ex?  He pulls out two Cadbury eggs and opens one.

Who the Hell hid Easter candy in the cookie jar and forgot about it?!  Now he's eaten his lunch, but it was a Cadbury egg, not spaghetti!

Waycho Canny

Tommy: "Mom! C'mere quick!"

Me (Oh God no, what now?) : "Why, honey?"

Tommy: "Canny! Mess! Canny mess!"

Me (getting up and following him into his bedroom): "Where? Show me."

Tommy (pointing to a mess of bright red handprints all over his mattress) "There."

Me: "Who did this?"

Tommy: "Danny the baby."

Me: "How?!"

Tommy: "Waycho's canny. Waycho's mommy canny."

And now it all makes sense. Danny found a piece of Twizzler (Rachael candy) which Rachael's Mommy very kindly gave to Tommy and Rachael, and chewed it into a red pulpy mess.  Also, he seems to have spit the mess out onto the floor, and it dried into the carpet. I think I'll make Tom clean that part up.