The way I broke it to my seven-year-old, when he started to take it out of the cupboard and then got upset when I told him he couldn’t.

Look, son.  I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.  This is a mint jelly, and it’s a bit of a refined taste.  Up to this point your only exposure to the genre has been that sugary Smuckers stuff that Mommy spreads on bread for you with peanut butter.   This does not go good with peanut butter.  And don’t even act like you’re just gonna put it on a piece of toast and not end up wasting it because you don’t like the way it tastes.  You can have something else instead.    

No, stop giving me that look, mister–it’s not that I don’t want you to have good things. It’s just that —  I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.  This jelly costs $11.99 for an 8 oz. jar at Whole Foods, and it’s organic.  What you’re looking for is something sweet to put on your English muffin, which is completely valid, given your age.  I mean, you eat cut-up hot dogs in the afternoon, for crissakes; no one expects you to know your Béchamel from your Béarnaise at this point. Just consider yourself lucky.  Youth and innocence slip away, my child, and you spend horridly massive amounts of time mourning their loss once you get older.  I think considering that, you’d do well to just take my advice and treat what’s in that little jar as so much Edenic forbidden fruit. Pick something different.

Oh, stop it! I don’t care what your mother does when you’re with her–this is my weekend!  I already told you that as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.  I bought it specifically because Clarissa is coming over for dinner on Wednesday, and she’s Lebanese, so I’m making lamb.  No, I don’t think that’s a ridiculous assumption.  It’s thoughtful is what it is, unlike a certain backbiting crone who shall remain nameless, and who doesn’t have the simple decency to trade visitation dates when I’ve got something important.  Someday you’ll realize that there are more worthwhile pursuits in life than just getting what you want at any given moment, even if you’re not sure yourself what it is that you want, although it always seems to involve heaping ruin on the person dumb enough to try to make you happy.  My mind is made up, son — go see what’s in the fridge, you can have something from there instead.

What? I was savi- . . . aww, screw it — you can have my milkshake.