Me: If you could eat one thing, your most favorite thing in the world, what would it be?
Martin: A big chunk of cheese.
Sophie: A sandwich with a smile face made of ketchup given to me by Santa.

Which, of course, actually would be the very best thing ever.  I have always thought along the lines of the TASTIEST items when considering this question.  It never even occurred to me to overlook things like steak or delicious pasta to instead come up with the best SITUATION ever, and a smiling sandwich presented by Santa certainly fits the bill.  It was so clever - I loved it.  And the kids could tell, and that encouraged them to delve deep into their creativity to come up with never before considered foods.

The idea of a ketchup sandwich quickly spun into a sandwich filled with cut up underwear.  This might seem unusual, unless you have a five year old boy living in your house too, then you've probably heard such ideas as well.  I usually cut these off quickly before they spin out of control and I hear a sentence that includes at least four versions of the word "butt", but that night I just told him to remind me never to eat lunch at his house.

The laughing stopped.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know, I don't want to eat dinner at your house because you might trick me into eating something gross," I told him.

"But I live HERE.  With YOU."  The last word punctuated with a wavering voice as the tears started to flow.

"I am going to live here FOREVER.  MOMMA!  FOREVER!"  Sophie cried, joining Martin in tears.

I felt terrible, of course.  It had never occurred to me that a three and a five year old would not have yet imagined a future where they didn't live with their momma.  I assured them that I wasn't talking about NOW, but at some point when they were GROWN UPS they would have their own house.  "No" they told me, "they were going to live here forever." 

I smiled then, feeling glad that the crying was over and feelings smoothed over.  Happy to feel the kind of deep love a momma gets from young children.  Amused and a little sad, knowing that ten years from now they might be counting down the days until they can get their own place.  In the meantime, we're all still here, cooking and eating together.

Sophie cooking in happier times.  Maybe now isn't the right time to start making jokes about preparing The Last Supper.