I made a rookie mistake last night. In a weak moment after returning from swimming lessons, hair still frozen to the sides of wee faces, we scarfed back some homemade mac ‘n cheese and headed for a sudsy, warm bath.

The baby led the way down the hall and I heard a small, chlorine-infused voice ask, “Mom, could we have a treat?” They had worked so hard at swimming, they had eaten without complaining, they had talked to each other on the ride home without arguing over whose coat was taking up more of the backseat or who knew the most consecutive and accurate lyrics to Moves Like Jagger.

With two bags of Halloween candy still staring at me from the dining room floor, I decided it would be okay to agree to a rather unusually timed sugar rush.

Greg knew the baby would have a meltdown if she too indulged, but a bigger one if she was denied, so he quickly suggested he take Chloe to the tub to get started, the older girls would eat the treat of their choosing and never speak of it again.

If only life were that easy.

Hanna walked into the bathroom stone-faced. It looked like she was going to pass out from the pressure of keeping the enormous secret and the even more gargantuan double order of sour keys contained in her sugar coated mouth.

She stared only at the floor and appeared to be shaking from the tips of her fingers through the soles of her feet.

I knew I was dead in the water when syrupy liquid started pouring out of her lower lip while she battled to keep the candy in and keep her words focused on the task at hand—operation depriving baby of candy was in full lockdown.

I gave her a look that said, “You are better not saying anything and let Chloe think you are just spitting, nay drooling, from some sort of seizure, if she finds out you are eating candy, she’ll go crazy.”

Next was Ellie who went with an alternative approach. Her heart was in the right place when she walked in, chocolate shadows over each tooth making her look like she’d just removed her dentures and was planning to bathe focusing on just her gums tonight.

The first thing out of her chocolate smeared mouth, which incidentally, you could smell from three houses away, “Chloe, Ellie just had a chocolate bar. It was awful. Bleh. Yuck! You would not have liked this chocolate bar. It was so gross. I think I’m gonna puke!”

I think the wrapping on the candy was when she turned to Greg and I and attempted to wink.