Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat.

I cooked for days and now it's all over. The Breakfast Casserole from Alice at Savory Sweet Life turned out fabulous. So didn't the Blueberry Coffee Cake. And the Guinness Stout Ginger Cake, although my husband equated it with Boston Brown Bread -from a can. I also made a large spiral ham, roasted brussel sprouts and mashed 'taters with sour cream and garlic. My parents brought over a turkey, stuffing and butternut squash. Everything was delightful.

I ate all day. Literally. ALL. DAY.

The two-year-old decided that it was a candy-cane-free-for-all. He ate 1/2 the candy canes on the tree (his brother ate the rest). I'm not sure how many candy canes they actually ate because I found half-eaten canes littered all over the house...and on the bottom of my socks. Gross. In addition to candy canes, the delightfully aggressive two-year-old ate cranberry sauce and later on, some whipped cream. I'm pretty sure he might have eaten a brussel sprout or two, but that's it. Oh, Christmas!

The four-year-old ate sausage and candy canes. Not together, but like it would even matter.

I forgot about the Pez. They ate Pez. And the candy poop that came out of these musical animals that poop candy when you press on their heads. Seriously. Ice cream! I forgot about the dehydrated astronaut ice cream. I'm really surprised they didn't throw up. I wanted to...looking at their sticky hands and faces.

I didn't throw up. Instead, I loved their excitement and remembered eating a box of Life Savers (the kind in Christmas book format), candy canes and the like every Christmas. And the correlation made me smile.