It is the only time all day when I can unashamedly and fearlessly consume chocolate without a little pipsqueak voice popping up:
I SMELL something! What do I smell Mommy? Do I smell CHOCOLATE Mommy?!?
And then I must choose one of three options:
1. Lie: "No, daughter, that is broccoli you smell. Mommy LOVES to have a broccoli treat in the middle of the (morning/afternoon/day/night).
2. Mean Mommy: Yes, daughter, I am eating chocolate and I am allowed to eat chocolate because I already survived puberty and High School gym class and eighteen months of morning sickness, and THAT entitles me to eat chocolate whenever I want! You, little girl, may eat broccoli.
3. Give-in like the big wimp that I am and spend the rest of the afternoon watching my daughter dance on the bed rather than taking that much-needed nap.