I grew up having dessert after every meal.  Dinner wasn’t over until we had consumed something sweet.  My mom was a baker and we would have pies, tarts, cake, cookies, or some other delicious treat.  It wasn’t always fancy but it was homemade and yummy.  Fruit didn’t count.  We would sometimes have a dish of home canned peaches, plums, cherries or apricots but in the middle of the table there was always a plate with cookies, brownies, date squares (the best in the world), or some other kind of square.    Even now, I am just a tiny bit sad if I finish a meal and there is nothing sweet to finish it off with.  I know it isn’t good for me.  But on the other hand, I will at least get to the end of my life with fond memories of sweet endings.