My mom always wanted to make my grandfather feel relaxed on Thanksgiving. He insisted one year on helping, so she put him in charge of the pumpkin pie. Papa made it and served it proudly. We all took a bite and it was like the "Friends" Thanksgiving episode with the trifle from hell (it tastes like feet!). Papa realized he forgot to add sugar to the recipe. We had a bonfire that night and the pumpkin pie went into it. Papa never offered to help again.