Last night my husband arrived home around 9:30 and presented me with a one-pound bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup miniatures. Earlier in the day he obviously had paid attention to my lament that we didn't have nearly enough chocolate in the house.
I have a thing for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and he knows this. I love him so.
In case you are wondering, the fact that my eldest daughter is named Reese is entirely a coincidence. Because, really, if we had been naming our children after guilty edible pleasures, I would have dubbed the other two Oreo and Dots.