If you know me well, you know that I love Bran Muffins from Dunkin’ Donuts.

That’s it, though.  Dunkin’ Donuts is it.

I have met lots of Bran Muffins that I don’t like… in restaurants, in coffee shops and cafes, all over the country and even other parts of the world.  I have tried baking my own Bran Muffins from scratch, using many different recipes.  None of them cut it.

So… scientists and geneticists, take notice.  It seems that this little pleasure is a genetic thing.   You see, I can’t walk into Audrey’s home with a Dunkin’ Donuts bag without little voices begging, “Grandma, is that a Bran Muffin?”  This question is obviously rhetorical, because what else could possible be in the bag?

I do not have to answer this rhetorical question, of course.  And next comes, “Can I have some?”

Another rhetorical question.  After all, I am a Grandma, and everything that is mine is theirs.

William has been known to devour my entire Bran Muffin.  Alex has been known to devour my entire Bran Muffin.  And today, Benjamin followed suit.  Both of his older brothers were at pre-school (this is Alex’s first day, now that he’s 3!)… and Benjamin took this opportunity to grab my Dunkin’ Donuts bag, open it, unwrap the muffin, lay it on a napkin, break it into small pieces, and eat the entire thing.

Now, you may be asking, why don’t I just buy 2 or 3 Bran Muffins so everyone can have his own.  Well, them being bran and all… Audrey has always been a little, shall we say,  concerned about the possible explosive effects on her little guys’ digestive systems.

Not to worry.  These guys’ little tummies are made of steel.  Just like their Grandma’s!

Ah… genetics!  Aren’t they, and Dunkin’ Donuts Bran Muffins,  just the best!  (By the way, Henry is 14 weeks old now.  I wonder when his little guilty pleasure will kick in!?)