"Do you think I could get a hot chocolate?" he asked, his eyes bright with a childhood memory. "Of course you can. Want it made with milk or water?" "Milk, definately." I mixed it up, and topped it with an impressive swoop of whipped cream. He gaped. "That's it? That's my hot chocolate?" He took a gulp, and sighed as if he'd just tasted a fifty dollar, gourmet dessert. "Boy, Charisa, you're sure gonna make your kids happy, when they wake up for Saturday morning cartoons and find this waiting for them!" It was the best compliment I'd had in a long time.