"I would like," the Kid announced randomly early last week, "To make you guys a very special snack."
I "not tonight-ed" for an evening or two--mostly because some earlier conversations had me a little concerned about what he might whip up, and what we would correspondingly have to smile and swallow down--but, finally, I gave the OK.
I needn't have worried. He made peanut butter bread with chocolate chips sprinkled on top. As I went for a third piece, I told him I thought he was onto something. Comfort food is trendy these days, after all.