“Well,” he began, trying not to laugh, “Perhaps if you didn’t burn everything.” It was all in jest. He loved her cooking, especially the baking. Hands down her time in the kitchen was more well spent than anyone he knew, perhaps save for their daughter.
Her hand in his he wandered with her. The food was quite basic in his opinion. A child fluttered past with a hotdog, mustard dribbling down their chin. He could smell hamburgers, but then as they neared the actual smoking pit new smells emerged. “So the spread isn’t bad after all. Would you like something?”
Sweeping a few minds he felt assured that whatever they indulged upon was safe.