Other times genius sneaks up on me. Tonight would be one of those times. So awhile ago I gave up on cooking. It wasn't a calculated or conscious decision. It just happened. Slowly, meal by meal, I quit trying. Why? Because nobody eats what I make, except for me I mean. So anyway I sort of gradually gave up. Any effort to cook was either something *I* had in mind, or something for Neall and I together. All of this was nudged gently along by the fact that Neall is only home for dinner a small smattering of weeknights. Th and Fr are really his only dinner days. Those are often nights of obligations as well, be it Cub Scouts or appointments or social outings. The children, during this unplanned cooking hiatus, ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly. When I say "a lot" I mean it. Some days that's all they ate, with an apple or orange thrown in there for nutritional value. I'm almost embarassed to admit that. Almost. So when finances got tighter and the weather got cold and I started cooking again, something changed. I guess compared to PB&J, boring chicken breast and mashed potatoes are like dream food. Here's a snippet of a conversation at the dinner table tonight, provided as evidence:
Finn: "mama, how many stars can you get?"
Me: "what???"
Finn: "for a restaurant, how many stars can you get?"
Me: "oh, you mean how good it is? 5"
Finn: "well I give you ten thousand trillion because this food is really really good"
I should have quit cooking a long time ago. I may have to do it again soon, as soon as chicken and potatoes don't pass the dinner test any more. Until then, I'll enjoy the happiness that I get from cooking meals my family love.
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