happy thanksgiving

In the spirit of this day of gluttony:

Domestic goddess that I'm not, I caught up on some housework on Saturday. By the time I finished, I was in the zone and decided to cook some cinnamon rolls for dessert. When I looked up a recipe for some sugar glaze to drizzle on top, I noticed I could substitute in some liqueur. Looking through my liquor cabinet, I decided on brandy.

Not really sure if this meant our son shouldn't eat some, we jokingly debated, and decided it was such a small amount (though uncooked) that it didn't matter. At first, he was repulsed by the thought of glaze on his rolls, so I saved one for him without any. But as soon as he tasted one with glaze, he started making the coolest "yummy sounds," as if he knew exactly what was in those rolls and he was going to get away with it.

Just as we were joking about candies and desserts with alcohol in them, our son jumped up to the table and spotted the very last cinnamon roll. "Oooooohhhh," he said in ecstasy, "the last one....mmmmmmm," in a very Homer Simpson kind of way. You would have thought they'd been spiked with something a lot stronger.