This is not an unusual occurrence in my home.

Once a week or so I open the fridge, glance over at the dairy section and discover that someone has taken a bite out of the butter.

I know it wasn’t me. I don’t even like butter, and the thought of a mouthful of cold, hard butter, well, honestly, it makes me gag.

I know who the culprit is. I’ve caught her in the act a few times. She smiles that impish smile, flashes those big brown eyes and then prances away.

I remain, stunned and shocked.