Chocolate. I love chocolate. Milk chocolate. Because milk belongs in there. You folks who swear by your dark stuff are welcome to your bitter, slick mud and it's strange aftertaste. Milk belongs in chocolate.

Even a child will tell you this.

And for this reason I gave my daughter a heart-shaped box of Dove milk chocolates for Valentine's Day--and thought I was really cool for finding them in a cool metal tin she can keep forever. Yes, I am all over the Valentine's Day gimmick. And my heart melted when my daughter looked up and thanked me for her holiday treat.

So I was pretty surprised when I came upon her the other day with her tin opened and half the chocolates still in there. "I don't like these," she said.

"How do you know?" I asked. They were there, after all. Whole. Or so I thought.

"I tried them. I don't like them."

I had a closer look. Sure enough, she took little bites out of the chocolates, found them undesirable, and put them back.

Okay, I thought. Why? why not toss them out?

I asked; I received no answer. I am left to wonder why a kid would take a mouse-sized bite out of anything as delicous as Dove chocolate and, upon finding them unsatisfactory, replace them in the box.

That's my kid and I live her dearly, but heck, that's a little weird. And unsanitary.

Still, I tried them. Found them to be quite delicious.

Why were they back in the box? My daughter knows her mother. Later in the week, the Late-February Fairy made up the difference with some lovely, smooth Cadbury bars. And we were satisfied.

And that is quite a blessing.