The scene: bathroom, post-potty, nearing bedtime. Barak requests his two M's. He gets them, we make our bracha, and head back to the bathroom to brush teeth--M's still clutched safely in fist. (That "melts in your mouth, not in your hand" line? Tell it to a two-year-old who likes to delay his chocolate gratification. Anything will melt in your hand if it's there long enough.)
"Barak, we need to brush your teeth, so you need to eat those M's." M's go into mouth. I put toothpaste on toothbrush.
"Are your M's all gone?"
"No. Ackshully iss not all gone. Iss just in there."