Our phone rang late one night, and my wife Nancy picked it up. She said, "No," and slammed it down.

"Who was that?"

"Some boy for Carolyn," she said, referring to our daughter.

Then it rang again. Nancy listened, said, "KitKat," and hung up.

"What now?" I asked.

"A boy plans to ask Carolyn to the prom and wanted to know what her favorite candy is. He's going to put the invitation into a candy basket."

The next morning a basket of candy was on our porch. "But, Mom," our daughter protested when she heard the story, "KitKat isn't my favorite candy."

"I know," Nancy said. "It's mine."