"Baby, did you eat all those chocolates?"
A pile of wrappers swept out from under the bed stared at the child. She blinked and smiled beatifically.
"Not me, Daddy."
"Sweetie, if you didn't, who did?"
He was taken aback, slightly amused. "C'mon, honey. Tell your Dad the truth," he coaxed.
"You ate them, Daddy. Come on, out with it." With the admonishment, the child returned to her drawing.
He waited for her impatiently. And her gifts. His precious.
She arrived later than usual. "You are late," he accused.
"For good reason. I almost got caught."
"Yes. And it is because of you. Didn't I ask you to be careful?" She was upset.
Sheepishly he apologized but more important matters lay ahead. "So, you couldn't...."
His words trailed off, as an unwrapped chocolate, melting and glistening slightly with moisture of her hands, lay in the plump little hand.
Hidden behind the curtains, her father watched his daughter feed stolen chocolate to his diabetic father.