“Mom, do you see that woman? The one with all the ingredients for Rice Krispie treats in her cart? Do you know who she is?”

I look around the grocery store, giving a cursory glance to carts with marshmallows. “No, I don’t know her.”

“She’s gone now. But I know who she is. She’s a grandma. Grandmas have those kinds of things in their carts and they make those kinds of things for the people they love. Moms don’t do that.”

“Sometimes moms do.”

“No. Moms keep their best recipes a secret for an entire childhood.”


It reminds me of the time when I was about his age, after I had spent a glorious day with my grandma, and my mom said, “You sure do have a good grandma. I wish I had had a grandma like that.”

And I said, “Yes, but look at the mother you had.”

At which point she reminded me that the mother she had was a whole lot like the mother I had.

I was thinking of making my boys a chocolate lava cake this weekend. But I might save that for their kids.

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