My friend Lisa had a baby recently, and in preparation for the birth came the discussion of several baby-related topics between me and my daughter. Weeks in advance, she'd sit down to the dinner table and begin with, "What's the umbilical cord again?" So then came the explanation about how exactly babies eat before they're born. She seemed intrigued by the talk, and naturally I kept talking.

We're in the middle of Joann Fabrics when, from the buggy, Adam and I hear a pretty rockin' song from our 4-year-old.

"PLACENTA, PLACENTA... placenta... PLACENTA, placentaaaAAAA...."
"Um, Amaris? Are you singing about placenta?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you know what a placenta is?"
"Hmmm - no? PLACENTA, PLACEN...."
"Wait - don't sing about placentas here. I'll tell you what that is later - then you can sing in the car."

I'm selling chocolates for my daughter so that her dance costumes don't cost the price of my right arm sold in the black market.
I think I hate the act of begging for money from people that don't associate with her on a regular basis because of the door-to-door experiences I had as a kid.
My mom would help my sister and I come up with a script that we would absolutely stumble over on each stoop. "Hello, I'm from Davy Crockett, and I was wondering if you'd like to buy some popcorn. It helps my school because.... You don't have to pay me now. Carrie! There's a sign that says NO SOLICITING on that house!"
The very first memory I have is going to the neighbor's house who lived at the top of the hill. I rang the bell and heard her cocker spaniel barking. So there i am, stumbling again over exactly what to say between yells to the dog, and my neighbor sticking her nose through the 3-inch gap she allowed. "HOLD ON. I can't HEAR you. WHAT?" When she let her door open just a smidge more, the dog burst through, and I was left standing there in blame. "do. you. see. what. you. DID."
And there were tears and no more going to that house ever again.
So I'm sticking with the annonymous guilt approach. There's a picture of my tiny dancer in her leotard, tapping her heart out. This is glued to the box of candy with a note that says "Please deposit $1.00 via the Honor Code, in exchange for momentary satisfaction and endless good karma. Thanks!"