Chuck and Rose gave her a cook book for her 6th birthday. The book is written for children assisted by parents. We try to cook something from it once a week or so, but simple recipes are really meant for simpler palettes, and we can only take so much. This morning she bypassed the “assisted by parents” requirement, probably because the parents were still sleeping, and made breakfast. Sliced apples on skewers. Except there weren’t any skewers, so she used chopsticks. On a tray. With little teacups of water. She carried the tray upstairs, spilling nary a drop, and placed it at the foot of our bed. Hearts burst. Smiles cracked. Pride welled. Maybe we’re doing OK at this parenting stuff.