“I was kneeling on Zed’s back and rubbing an egg into his hair with one hand as I incapacitated him with tickling from the other when our mother walked into the room, just home from work. I froze, and Zed choked on his laughter. My mother’s eyes tracked over the food-strewn kitchen, and the back to the two of us on the floor. “Pudding is cursed in this house,” she said succinctly, and then walked away.”