Shanann Watts’ little girls were giggling, pattering around the dining room of their Colorado home. It was a Sunday evening, and the Watts family was playing a peewee version of the strongman carnival game. If the children struck the hammer hard enough, a blue plastic hand would send a pie flying at their dad.

Chris Watts peered through a face cutout and waited. “Hit it,” their grandma, whom they called Nonna, ordered 4-year-old Bella. The girl slugged the toy and launched whipped cream into her daddy’s eyes, and everyone laughed. “Nice, nice,” Chris smiled, raising his hand for Bella’s high-five. “Who’s next? CeCe you next?”

Celeste, 3, wanted to be in the hot seat herself. When the dessert on her face dropped to the floor, Dieter, the family’s dachshund, scurried over to lap it up. CeCe dipped her finger in the mess and ate it, flashing a mischievous grin.