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I’ll never forget the day my mom’s best friend, Rachel, snuck over for seconds. It was a typical Sunday afternoon, and my mom had invited me and my siblings over for a family dinner. She had spent all morning cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and the aroma of her famous lasagna wafted through the house, making our stomachs growl with anticipation.

And with that, Rachel dug in, serving herself a generous helping of lasagna and garlic bread. We all laughed and joked as she sat down at the table with us, and for a moment, it felt like she was just another member of our family.

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine,” Rachel replied, trying to brush it off. “I just ate a big lunch, and I’m not really hungry.”

“Come on, Rachel, help yourself,” my mom said with a smile. “There’s plenty to go around.”

But as the evening wore on, and Rachel helped herself to seconds (and then thirds), I started to realize that maybe she had been a little too eager to get her hands on my mom’s cooking. I mean, who drops by unannounced and then proceeds to eat an entire lasagna by themselves?