Generally speaking, my kids are not big fans of my culinary efforts. Tonight I made homemade pizza, which is usually a safe bet, but neither Tage nor Petra approved of the pepperoni topping. Tage flat refused to eat his, leaving his plate all but untouched. When I called him back to finish eating, he protested that he couldn’t, saying the food was “really gross.”

To my surprise, Lydia jumped to my defense. “Tage,” she told him, “she’s made grosser stuff.”

Hey, faint praise is still praise. I’ll take what I can get.