I know she's spoiled...

...and yet I say, "Go ahead and choose a CD."
Kate debates, tempted by Miley Cyrus and Kids Rock number infinity, but she settles on Leona Lewis. She loves "Keep Bleeding," and knows almost all the words.

At the checkout, the debates begin again. A Snickers? Skittles? Twix? She finally chooses a small bag of Hershey Kisses.

I play the CD on the way home. She starts in on the Kisses, reading me the "fortunes."
"This one says Powder loves you."
"This one says I love Daddy."
"Turn it UP!"

I do. My ears are starting to hurt when I hear her say something unintelligible. I look back and her chin juts back and forth in time to the music. Chocolate saliva drools down her chin as she frantically opens kiss after kiss in pursuit of her next fortune. The fortunes take a more serious turn:
"Kiki is a naughty sister."
"My gymnastics teacher is coming to our house."
"Turn it UP!"

Now the fortunes move from serious to sinister.
"Don't go running tomorrow- you'll get chased by a rattlesnake."
"This one says, 'If you scratch my new CD you are DEAD.'"

I barely hear her over the din of the music, but I consider myself warned on both counts.