I was in the kitchen one day; my 10yo and his 10yo friend were playing in the living room.
10yo Friend: What’s that smell?
10yo: I don’t know.
(Saunters into the kitchen)
10yo: Mom, what’s that delicious smell?
(Translation: Can I have some of whatever you have in the oven…and I totally do not mean that in an Eddie Haskell sort of way, even though it sounds like I do; or maybe I do mean it like that. Whichever option is going to get me some of whatever is in the oven.)
10yo: Oh, well they smell delicious. (So I've heard...)
(He’s like a dog with a bone, but he does pause as he ruminates on his next move; I pretend not to notice.)
10yo: (Casually, but with feeling) So...what are they for?
(He’s asking because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up; often they are for someone else, for a specific event, or to put in the freezer for future use…because I enjoy torturing my family. Clearly.)
Me: For LATER...tonight, that is. Later tonight. For us.
(Light bulb moment…he may have a shot at these later…he’d better tread lightly as he doesn't want to blow it.)
(Nonchalantly, he strolls back to his friend)
10yo: Dude, that delicious smell is brownies. (Making sure I’m within earshot…bonus points, or brownie points as it were, with the “chef”…I’m using that term so loosely right now.)
10yo Friend: Oh (clearly disappointed)…well, it smells like cookies, NOT brownies.
Needless to say, THAT young man was not invited to partake of my brownies…ONLY because he went home before they came out of the oven. NOT for any other reason…what were YOU thinking?