Here's the Reality:
I picked up a kit from the grocery store to make caramel apples. I think we made these once or twice when I was a kid and it's definitely a possibility that my mom bought a kit to do this in 1991 and may very well still have it in her pantry. (Love ya, Mommy!)
I explained to the girls that I'd like to make caramel apples. "Oooh, goody!" Michaela exclaimed. "Can I just have the caramel? "
We'll make them and then decorate them with sprinkles, I tell them. Then I realize that the chicken I'm roasting rules out the 'bake in a 200 degree oven for 15 minutes' part of the directions, so we move to plan B: the microwave. We stretch out the caramel to try to cover the apples and make a big mess. Tendrils of overstretched caramel are all over our hands. Jenna starts eating it off of her hands and declares, "I don't liked taramel."
When we get the apples covered, we microwave them for 20 seconds on high, which barely melts the caramel. After a few tries, at least it is semi-warm so we move on to the decorating part. I take out the sprinkles and ask the girls which one they'll like. They promptly start arguing about who is getting which sprinkles and I intervene at least twice so they stop yelling at each other. As I finish up rolling the apples in the sprinkles, the girls totally lose interest and instead start throwing bags of Smartfood popcorn at each other. "Popcorn fight!" is the battle cry.
While I am doing the final plating and presentation, Michaela and Jenna leave the room with the leftover caramel mushed into a little ball and go to the family room to watch SpongeBob Squarepants.
And this is the leftover scene in the kitchen:
So everytime you hear a story about someone's perfect family or heartwarming tradition, remember this story. There's two sides to everything: it's all how you spin it. Neither is totally untrue, just .... massaged.