Years ago, we decided to have a little holiday dinner party. As I returned from the grocery store I was greeted eagerly by son Anthony, then 7, who, like most growing boys, has a fascination with food.
As we brought the supplies into the house, he interrogated me about the menu.
I ran through the list and then said:
“And just for you, I got dessert.”
His eyes lit up.
“You did? What did you get?”
“Pie,” I said.
“Mmm, I love pie,” he said.
“Me too,” I said.
The gleam in his eyes turned to one of concern.
“You do?” he asked, somewhat tentatively.
“Yes,” I said, “I really do.”
I could see he was trying to figure something out. And then a look of resignation appeared.
“Well,” he said, “You want half?”
IRON-AGE EPILOG 