"I think it's alright." My mother tasted the stew I fed her as I pulled the silver spoon out of her pink lips. "But I only feel that way because I was the one who made the stew."
"The real question is if you like it, Daddy, since I made it specially for you in the first place." She looked at me with an avid look in her eyes, expecting me to give her a rating of her cooking. "And don't even try to lie to me about the taste and tell me the truth, so that I can make meals that are more suited to your taste in the future."
