It was Easter Sunday and I had my crew of five kids and a husband at Mom and Dad's house, with a few extended family members. We had just finished a nice Easter feast and were visiting when my youngest son, age nine, came into the dining room with his undershirt in his hands. There were chocolate smears (at least I hoped they were chocolate!) all over his undershirt. He asked Grandma if she had a rag so he could clean his shirt up.
"Ben," I said, "How did you get chocolate all over your undershirt?" His white dress shirt, which he had properly buttoned, looked fine.
"Oh," Ben said, "You know those chocolate eggs they gave us in Primary today?"--the Primary leaders had given each of the children a miniature Cadbury egg, the kind with gooey egg-like insides--at the end of Primary.
"Yes," I said.
"Well," Ben said, "I ate part of mine but I didn't want to eat it all, so I decided to put it in my pocket." He indicated the breast pocket of his white Sunday shirt. "But, I missed my pocket and accidentally put the egg down my shirt." He pantomimed sticking the egg down the neck of his shirt.
"How did you discover what you'd done?" I asked him.
"Well, I was rubbing my stomach and there was this lump there. I looked inside and there was my egg!"
And, the rest is history. When we left for home, we couldn't find the undershirt. Mom brought it to me the next day--still covered in chocolate.