Grandmother's kitchen always smelled of orange tarts. The granddaughter always loved the smell, and always associated the scent with her darling grandmother. Every time the child visited her grandparents, she would run straight for the kitchen, where a fresh batch of goodies awaited her. As she would sit to eat the tarts, Grandmother would pull up a chair, and tell the little one all kinds of exciting stories about the N.A.V.Y. and fighting pirates. The girl would listen, rapt, and try to imagine herself in the role of such an amazing woman.
"Grandma?" The little girl asked after the latest tale had been told. "Can I be in the N.A.V.Y. when I'm all grown up?"
The older woman smiled, and picked up a napkin to brush the crumbs off the child's cheeks. "Of course you can, dear. It's a proud Mouse family tradition. My mother was in it, and so was her mother, and so was hers."
Despite her youth, the child was able to pick up on a missing factor in the tradition. She frowned, thoughtfully che