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"It's..." she started, slowly chewing on the cookie with narrowed eyes with an almost disgusted twist of lips, as if she were a culinary critic of the highest caliber, and of the most extreme severity. "A little less bad than the one you made last week."
His face fell, and his shoulders slumped.
"It's not that bad," James mumbled, falling on the kitchen chair beside him, head lowered in shame, mechanically taking a cookie and nibbling on it.
As he chewed, he realized it was...good enough for him. Not too sweet, but sweet enough for his tastes.
His lowered eyes then caught her small hand taking another cookie, his eyes following the movement as she kicked her legs contently. Her eyes lost somewhere else.
"You brat..." he muttered, a small smile curving his lips.
She looked back at him a little startled, before sniffing.
"Just like you, daddy," she grimaced, sticking her tongue to him before wolfing down the rest of the cookie she was eating to take another one.
James watched the whole scene with a smile of disbelief...and relief.