I am suddenly and powerfully reminded of an incident when Yahoo no. 1 was 6 or 7 years old. Soon after the move up from Albuquerque to Denver, we were visiting my great-aunt, my mom's favorite aunt, Nell Antonio, who had lived just down the block from her as she was growing up and still lived in the same place all those years later. Aunt Nell got around on replacement knees and a generally pleasant disposition, and somehow her house was always spotless.

So upon the great and triumphant return 'home' after living in weird places like Chicago and New Mexico for years, I took the kids to meet Aunt Nell. (I say 'I' but the once-wife was there, as was my mom.) The boys were unexpectedly well-behaved, except for some noise when I took them into the backyard to run around a bit after they'd been confined to an old lady's living room on display for a while. No one begrudged them the decibels, and Aunt Nell got a chance to retell a story about how the neighbor kids had acted up one night some years ago. I forget the details, but I remember her mild amusement years later over what had clearly been a serious aggravation at the time.

After a while (maybe when her patience with the noise ran out) she invited the boys into the kitchen for cookies she had baked -- snickerdoodles, iirc. Yahoo no. 1 was first in line, of course, and as she leaned down as best she could to offer him the plate, he asked, "How many can I have?" Aunt Nell told him, "Honey, you can take as many as you want." I still can't describe the look on his face as he turned to me for confirmation. He couldn't believe that was really true, and he was pretty sure I was going to set a limit, but he really really wanted it to be true. I said, "Hey, it's her house, her cookies, her rules." He grabbed a bunch, and left some for his brothers, who also got all they wanted, and I'm pretty sure none of those cookies were left.

Not sure why that reminiscence just suddenly cropped up, but there it is.