Naturally, Owen had other plans.He squirmed in my arms with the determination of someone twice his age, reaching toward the  candy rack as if it were his life’s mission. His fingers stretched out toward the sour worms, and he wore that mischievous glint in his eyes I knew far too well.

“No, buddy,” I whispered, hoisting him higher on my hip. “Don’t even think about it.”He blinked up at me, his big brown eyes wide with fake innocence.“But they’re sour worms, Mommy,” he protested with a pout.