Before we went to the park today, I stopped at the coffee shop for an iced coffee — maybe my last of the season. Lindsay wanted a sip, so I obliged, and she scrunched her nose up as soon as she tasted it. Then she asked for more. I buckled her in and started driving away, and she said, “I like that, that’s good.” Then she smacked her lips and said, “That tastes chewy, Daddy.” I think she’s right, actually. I’ve used that term to describe a stout Rogue’s Shakespeare Stout) before, but it definitely applies to iced coffee, too. Good call, Lindsay.