Guido and I made our pork-chop-run early yesterday afternoon and while at C-Town I picked up a few extra items -- including two boxes of panettone.

Well, the boys have been eyeballing those boxes since they arrived. So this morning, with Alane out at Mass, and me sitting here doubled-over with back pain and a fresh pot of coffee brewing, I finally acceded to John Paul's repeated requests to please let him eat the bread in the box.

"Okay, Cookie. Let's open it."

So we trundled into the kitchen and ceremonially opened the box, slid out its weighty payload, undid the plastic bag, and carefully carved off a big hunk of perfectly-formed panettone flesh.

The boys watched with great anticipation.

I put the big hunk on a plate and then hacked off three small wedges -- one for each of us. We started eating.

The boys' faces didn't actually fall as they began eating, but their underwhelmed expression made it perfectly clear that panettone is a grown-up's food.

They ate a little, played with some of the runaway raisins, and eventually turned their attention to other things.

A perfect outcome: more panettone for me.