Not in your hands

I continue to outdo myself.
Today, one of the women at work brought their daughter in. She was adorable and I carried her around work for a while. She was eating a mixture of M&Ms and cheerios in that sloppy "I have no motor skills yet" kind of way. After pretending to eat two slobberey M&Ms, I gave her back to her mom. I had to go anyway to get across town. Upon arrival at the office, I was pleased to find that these sticky bombs somehow attached to my person, warmed in my crotchular area for the car ride across town, then exploded into shrapnel of yellow and orange candy coating and greasy chocolate ALL OVER MY PANTS AND MY NEW CAR. Brilliant. Now it looks like I crapped myself. Great.
If you need me, I'll be cursing with my pants off in the bathroom.