Speaking of M&Ms

The hubby was having a particularly frustrating day a few weeks ago.  

He knows that when I'm having a particularly frustrating day, I turn to my M&Ms.  There has always been a slight mockery at this habit of mine from my dear husband.  Although I will argue that it serves a dual purpose;  Not only does it make me feel better, but it is a very plain warning sign to my dear hubby when he walks in the door from work and hears a handful of M&Ms clinking against my teeth.  Besides, it scores him bonus points when he brings them home to me.

Therefore I suppose it could be reasoned that:

M&Ms = happiness.

Imagine my surprise when *I* heard the clinking coming from the closet in our bedroom.  Could it be?  My dear sweet love then walked out looking like this:

Then he tried to hide in the bathroom under the guise of "I need to comb the boys' hair."  Sure. 

Wow!  Check out those cheeks!

Looks like he's storing up for the winter!

So what did he have to say for himself?

"Wow-that really does help you feel better!"

See.  Told ya.