Some of the kids' greatest memories of Grandpa are his malted milks. Only one has to say in their sweetest, kindest (whiniest?!) voice, "Grandpa? Will you please make me a malted milk?" and depending upon where the baseball game is, he will usually jump right up to make one. When my nephew, Josh, was a little boy he was so astonished that Grandpa did not even measure anything when he made the malted milks. Grandpa did not disappoint and made Elyse her very own malted milk. And it was yummy, as you can tell by Elyse's smile.
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