Not to brag or anything.
She is now 10 and a half, and has recently been ravenous, and growing out of her clothes and shoes every six weeks, and once again wants her soft scrambled eggs "the way you make them" every morning for breakfast.
Why is it so flattering when your kids request food the way only you can make it? Perhaps it is the last hold out, the last bit of control one can wield over one's child. Even with Ingrid and Eva happily settled far from home at the moment, I still love to hear that they can't wait to come home for family dinner.