I hear the sounds of dishes clinking. Someone is preparing food downstairs. I have already eaten, so I'm hoping Hannah isn't fixing breakfast for me as well.
I continue to do morning computer catch-up, but the sounds get the better of me.
Downstairs I go, "Are you fixing breakfast?"
H: Yes! I am! My favorite!
Me: What are you making?
H: Strawberry ice cream. My favorite! With sprinkles.
Do I ruin the fun, or let it go? Anyone want to take a guess?
And now she's emptying the dishwasher. My favorite!