I love this story, Toni. When I was a child in the 60s there was a sweet Cuban man who lived up the street. He had a huge garden and when I walked past his house he always called out to me and gave me something to take to my mother. Tomatoes or beans or sometimes a loaf of bread his wife baked. I loved him so much.

I hope your little visitors come back. And I hope their father doesn’t poison them against you. It will be mighty confusing for them if he does. How can a nice lady who gives them cookies be anything but good?