Me and My Big Mouth

Aunt Ada was renowned for her delicious food. A dinner party at her house was always a treat, and I was particularly happy to be there for dinner at one point when my daughter was four and a handful, and I’d been making only quick, forgettable meals for us. Predictably, the conversation around Ada’s table turned to the food. The adults were raving over each dish, and, a little indignant, my daughter piped up, “Well, my mother’s a good cook, too!” Dumb me. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Thank you, honey,” I said, in a high, sugary talking-to-a-child voice. “And what’s your favorite food that I make for you?” She made a big show of careful consideration and then pronounced, “Plums!”

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