Her: “A fool? What’s a fool? Mom, why are you calling this a fool? I don’t even know what that is. I’ve never heard of it. It has whip cream but why is it a fool? Or are you calling me a fool? I don’t want to be a fool. Mooooooommm.”
And then one big spoonful of raspberry swirled whipped cream into her mouth.
And in 3-2-1…
Her: “Oh mom, this is really, really good.” Smiles and licks and more creamy swirled spoonfuls into her rosebud shaped mouth.
Me: “Give me a bite.”
With the look of shock and awe and a wickedly fast turn of her entire torso, she guards her glass jar of Raspberry Fool like she’s just rebounded the game winning shot in the finals of the WNBA championships.
And replies curtly, “No!”
Me: “Seriously? Not even a bite?”
Her: “Uggggh. Okaaaaaaay,” as she wipes the raspberry swirled cream from the sides of her mouth and hands me the jar.
Just another example of the generosity that’s shared when I deliver leftovers of the day’s recipe creations to my sweet—and can I say it again—more than generous 10 year old.
Sheesh. Who’s the fool now?