My parents tell a story about my sister and me going off to visit our grandparents and, while there, learning how tasty artichoke hearts were. At home, my parents had told KO and me that the heart was no good, thus reserving that delicacy for their own enjoyment. But on a weekend visit, Grandpa spoiled their fun by showing my sister and I how tasty the artichoke heart could be. We came home and shared this good news with our parents, perhaps believing that Mom and Dad had been living in a sad ignorance? In any case, we were on to their deceptions.
I was reminded of this story when my parents came to town and we went to breakfast at Cracker Barrel. JT ordered french toast with real maple syrup and his eyes lit up with happiness when he tasted that maple syrup. He promptly announced, "Their syrup is much better than yours, Mama."
I like real maple syrup myself and keep a stash in the fridge for the exclusive use of grown ups. The kids get Mrs. Butterworth. But now that JT has tasted the good stuff, I fear that the jig is up. He wants me to make him some french toast for breakfast this weekend.
Better hide the maple syrup.