If there were an age at which the act of snacking reached its artful pinnacle, I’d argue anyone that it’s 10. Ten is a magical age, when the ravenous appetite of a growing human body collides with newfound independence and (some) control over one’s own diet. With a decade’s worth of experience, the 10-year-old has become a master manipulator of their parents’ shopping habits, willing them to acquire whatever brand of individually packaged, nutritionless crunch they desire. (Better yet, they