The children were eating dinner: pasta with pesto, peas, parmesan, and (to spoil the alliteration) bacon.
“Mmmm,” Beanie said, inhaling deeply. “It smells so good.”
“Sure does,” Jane agreed. “It smells like heaven.”
Beanie’s eyebrows rose. “Heaven smells like bacon?”
“Hmm, you’re right,” Jane amended, “that can’t be it. I bet heaven smells like…like ice cream!”
The Five-Year-Old on Matters of Taste
Random Acts of Espionage?