I made a huge batch of roast potatoes with the intent of freezing some to have later on low-energy days, and you should hear the pitiful noises Holly Mop is making.
I already gave her a tiny piece. But she knows there are delicious, delicious, crispy golden potatoes currently cooling in the pan and for some reason, Mama is not sharing them.
Mother is cruel. Cruelty to the Mop. Father will be hearing about this when he returns from the Dreaded Outside.
