The pleasures of the flesh

We eat a lot of chicken -- roasted whole birds, bone in/skin on thighs glazed and grilled, rotisseried game hens. Almost all of our recipes involve some wonderfully crispy skin, which Mother and Father both love. We love it so much that for years we did not let Alex even TASTE it, lest we should have to share. This is not very like us. We deny our children little. But SKIN????? So, tonight, we had the thighs. Usually Alex is content to eat off the bone. Gregg gave her her own thigh. She ate the skin and said, handing the now naked limb back, "I don't like this part. I want more skin." Gregg said to me, "Wait! When did she even LEARN about the skin." I hung my head in shame. I conceded that in a weakly giving and maternal moment I had let her taste the delicacy. She was instantly hooked. But, alas, HE was the one who gave her the thigh in all its glory, n'est ce pas?