A birthday tradition, I make tiramisu for Austin, since it’s his favorite dessert. His sister is a recovering alcoholic, so I’ve been switching up my recipe so she can still partake. Also, I’m allergic to coffee.
Austin: Last time, I thought the ladyfingers were too dry. I’d like to split the batch in half and do one with coffee and rum, then you can do your half with the coffee-substitute and the rum substitute. And I want to be in the kitchen and help you make it and try it and test it out and adjust it while you’re making it.
Me, saying nothing.
Austin: And you’re thinking, ‘You’re not going to be helping me. You’re going to be in the way. And you’re going to end up make twice the number of dirty dishes by dividing the dessert in half and making my work double.’
Me: It’s so nice when you can read my mind.
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