It's nearly Mother's day. Did you notice? It's a surprise event that sneaks up on you. Never know when it's going to occur. Not unless you look at a calendar or pay attention to moon phases, and who wants to do those things? Accountants and werewolves, that's who! Not I, I can assure you.
Mind you, if you live in a lot of places, you're free to mess about until May. It's a more popular time for it, but in the UK and Ireland, it's tied to old-timey tradition, as servants were given the fourth Sunday of Lent off, based on a religious notion that people should go home sometimes. Inappropriate for a day of guilt and obligation. Thanks for nothing, Penswick-Smith.
Well, anyway, I've gotten mine one of our Cranberry and Hazelnut bars, the one with me on the wrapper. (If you're wondering if it's wise to post what I've got her here, I think it's fine; I'm not even sure she can read English.) I'll throw it at her and be all "there, told you so"! And then everyone will applaud, no doubt. As it's Mother's day, I probably shouldn't throw it too hard. It might break.