Watch That Finger!

Mr. Booger Finger. And Baby Brother.
Photo: Kallie-Jo Tolley Photography

In our house, over the holidays, love and good will abound.

And so does the food.

And the treats.

Especially the chocolate.

With, sometimes, amusing results . . .

A group of us adults were sitting around the table, intent on a game of cards.

Members of the younger set were dashing in and out, intent on activities.

Games.

And snagging treats.

We had just opened a new box of exotic chocolates.

A gift from our dear next-door neighbours.

Five different kinds of luscious, melt-able deliciousness, each in a different (intriguing) shape.

Chocolate mousse.

Crunchy.

Espresso.

Crème Broulee.

And pistachio.

Each more mouth-watering than the last.

Our five-year-old discovered the box and immediately seized it.

“What’s this?!” he said, holding it up.

“Chocolates!” I said. “Really yummy ones!”

“Oooh! What’s this one?!” He jabbed a finger into the chocolate mousse.

“That’s dark chocolate.”

“And this?” Another jab.

“Hey!” his dad said, taking the box. “Don’t touch all of the chocolates with your booger-covered finger!”

Da-ad!” he said, disgusted. “That’s not my booger finger!” He held up his other hand, pointer finger erect. “That one is!”

At least he was honest . . .