"NO! The water goes FIRST, then the leaves! How many times do I have to explain this?!"
I threw my hands up in exasperation, nearly knocking over the pot of boiling water beside me. Three children stared up at me with identical expressions of innocent confusion, their heads tilted at the same angle like a flock of confused baby birds.
"But the leaves smell nice," the smallest one—Lily, the girl with messy braids—protested, clutching a handful of greenery to her chest like it was a treasured possession. "If we put them in first, the water will smell nice too!"
"That's not how cooking works!"
"It could be how cooking works if we try hard enough!"
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Then opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Because somehow, despite all logic and reason, she had a point.
