Contraband Under the Mattress

So, if you haven't followed us in a while (and based on my posting frequency it's been a while even for those who have followed) my wife (and by default my children) are Greek.  While the rest of you were honorary Mexicans for Cinco de Mayo on Sunday, we were still firmly Greeks; celebrating the Orthodox Easter (although we still had Corona's on hand).  It's the one holiday we don't have to split between the families so it's nice.  And I needed to lay the ground work so you didn't think I was REEAALLLY behind in my story telling as I start into this "Easter" story.  So the girls had round two of eggs and candy; Yiayia had bought them new little zantas (purses) for the occasion, and through out the day they kept them close at hand - even opting to use them in liu of their usual Easter baskets on the egg hunt.  Now, we're probably a little on the conservative side when it comes to what goes in our children's food.  With a yoga instructor mom and a marathon running dad. ... you can assume we limit the candy intake.  We're not total prudes (our wedding reception tables were named after our favorite ice cream flavors instead of numbers and we had scoopers trail the limo instead of cans) but we do monitor and track how much, and of what, they eat.  So we let them have few pieces on the day of the party and the rest were to be save for a later time.  Unbeknowwnst to us, Genevieve determined that "later time" for herself.  Fast forward 12 hours and Gina wakes up for Monday morning, Arianna having crawled in to snuggle a bit some hour or so earlier.  It's not Arianna that wakes her, however. ... it's Karma. ... Karma who is feverishly trying to get something off her back side. ... which turns out to be Starbursts candies. ... plural. ... which are stuck on her butt.  It doesn't take long for Gina to track the source back to the girls bedroom and from their Genevieve's bed; which is strewn with candy wrappers like crime scene of the M&M's guys' murders.  The child is also wet because her hands are sticky with evidence and she's been trying to wash them before she's caught, literally with her hand in the candy jar.  Naturally she denies it.  It must be someone else's bed; someone else's candy; the dog must have done it.  Oh she tried them all on for size.  Her purse, the one that she clutched all day, had made it into bed with her that night.  And the sneaky little candy junky had loaded it up when no one was paying attention.  Very clever little one. But guess who's candy intake just had it's monitoring level doubled up?  I'll give you a hint. ... it's not the dog.