I have an idea. While mom's up explaining to Alex that making his bed and cleaning his room does not mean shoving everything onto the bed and pulling the bedspread over it, I'm going to explore the kitchen. With the help of this rocking chair I could probably reach a bunch of cool stuff. Oh, what's this? This looks good. Everyone gets excited about this in the morning. I'm gonna take a look. Oh, wow. This even tastes good--I'm going to try and drink it. I'm taking this stuff with me--it's never going to leave my sight. Into the living room we go. Now into the bedroom. Back to the kitchen. Oops. Is that mom I hear coming back downstairs? Run. I MUST RUN. WHOOPS. My chocolate treasure is spilling everywhere. But still, I must run. I sense that I should not be doing this, yet it tastes so good. Uh oh. Busted. No, those are not my lip marks. It wasn't me.