Cookie Monster

Some things get better with age--wine, men, Moravian sugar cookies. I found a canister of them in the pantry last night and decided to see if Henry liked them. And they were stale--which

means that instead of being dainty

and crispy, they were chewy, gooey, and little circles of heaven. (You see, I had to taste them to make sure they weren't poison.)

And Henry loves them.