In our department at work we have a cool little tradition when it comes to celebrating co-worker's birthdays. The person who most recently had a birthday is responsible for buying treats for the person celebrating the next birthday. My birthday was at the end of November and the next birthday was last Saturday, so it was my job to find out what my co-worker wanted for her birthday.
I was so glad when she said, "cookies."
My son makes delicious chocolate chip cookies. I'm not just saying that as a proud parent--okay, maybe I am, just a little bit. But when I take a two dozen of his homemade cookies to work and my co-workers gush over how good the cookies are, it tends to validate the assumptions I have that my son makes good cookies.
And to emphasis the point, many of my co-workers are mothers who have themselves made dozens of batches of cookies as mothers and caregivers. I value those judgements. They ask, "How does your son get them to turn out so well?" I say, "He just follows the recipe. To which, they answer, "That's not what happens when I do it."