She was holding a pan of delicious looking brownies, grinning from ear to ear.
"She came over a little while ago to introduce herself and welcome us into our new ward. It was so nice of her."
I agreed, and so did all five of my kids. They were jumping up and down, oohing and awing over the delectable sent of warm brownies, impatiently waiting for a chance to eat one.
Mom got a knife from her new kitchen drawers, cut the brownies, and handed one to each of the kids. Then she cut one for me, and took one for herself.
They sure did look delicious. Happily I sunk my teeth into the dark chocolate treat, but it didn't taste like I was expecting. Salt?
I looked around at the rest of my family, each with the same quizzical look on their faces and puckered mouths.
"There's something wrong with my brownie," sweet Alyssa said first, putting her piece down on the table and walking over to the garbage can to spit her mouthful out.
"Ewwwww," Linnea and Holly chimed in, both making faces while they dashed over to the sink to spit their bites down the drain.
"This tastes awful," Stephen agreed, screwing up his face in disgust, but swallowing his bite anyway, then looking at his brownie with regret, as if he was hoping he could take a second bite and it might magically be better than the first.
Only Russell wasn't making a fuss. He was still holding his brownie, looking at it sadly. "I think someone must have made a mistake and left out the sugar or something," he suggested.
I nibbled a tiny piece off the corner of my brownie, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong. "I think you're right, Russell," I agreed with him finally. "But I think she put too much salt in them, too."
"It's like in Ann of Green Gables, when she put the wrong stuff in the cake she made," Holly guessed. "Maybe we'll all be poisoned."
"Don't be silly," Linnea told her. "You can't be poisoned with too much salt. But they sure taste nasty."
I looked at mom, and found her trying hard not to laugh. "I bet she would be mortified if she knew what she'd done," I guessed, thinking how awful I would feel if I gave someone a treat only to later discover I had made it wrong.
"Oh, I know she would," mom agreed, almost giggling. "Don't anybody say anything about these brownies not tasting good, you guys. We don't want to hurt anybody's feelings." Then she took the pan and dumped the rest of the brownies out into her garbage can. "The hard part is going to be finding the right way to thank her for them when I give her pan back to her."
I'd been thinking the same thing. "How can you be gracious and at the same time truthful?" I wondered out loud. "In this instance, I guess, it would be better to err on the side of kindness."
The kids went happily off to play outside or watch TV on our side of the house while I helped mom clean up the dirty napkins and brownie crumbs from her new kitchen floor. How many times in the past had I worried about the treats I was giving people, hoping I hadn't left something out or miss-measured the ingredients. "I hope I've never made the same mistake," I said to mom after we'd tidied up her kitchen.
She grinned big, then couldn't help herself and started to laugh. "I know it's not nice of me," she giggled happily, "and that poor Relief Society President would just die if she ever found out her mistake, but it sure makes me feel good knowing other people aren't perfect, just like me. I think I'm going to love living in this new ward."
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