My mother's (implicit) philosophy of parenting.

A few weeks ago I made up some tapioca pudding - like last year that grocery store that had been in my apartment building had had packets of tapioca pearls on sale for a dollar and I had got a pack, but never made any - and had even mentioned to my mom I was going to make some, and then when I had called my parents after I had made it my mom asked me how it turned out.

"Good," I was like, "But no matter how long I boiled it, some of the pearls weren't cooked all the way through, though otherwise the pudding was a good consistency."

"You know, honey," my mom was like, "I didn't want to tell you and discourage you, but I've never been able to make tapioca pudding for the life of me. My grandmother used to make this beautiful tapioca pudding and even gave me the recipe, but it's turned out like yours did every time I tried it. There must be some trick out there that we don't have!"