Or rather when you have a teenager, a preteen and a youngest in your house it doesn’t matter what you plan to make for dinner, someone’s gonna complain.
Most days I drive carpool in the afternoon. Of course, this is my favorite part of the day, because it means
I’m done working I get to spend the rest of the afternoon with my lovely children. It’s my joy – no really it is – to help them with their homework, remind them of what chores to do, feed them and get them into bed. The car pool routine is always the same I visit with other moms at the school while I wait for the kids and eventually they appear. Then it happens, everyday it’s the same thing and everyday I’m completely unprepared. TB approaches and I can see the words forming on his lips before he asks the question. It is his usual greeting, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” Immediately the kids fall silent, all waiting to hear the answer. I almost always panic. Answer this one wrong and I’ve just changed the trajectory of the entire evening. Basically I have one standard answer to this, “I don’t know.” Of course, TB is beginning to see this answer for what it really is – a stall tactic. He has begun to ask over and over until I relent and give an answer. I can hold out for quite awhile, but eventually he wins. Last night he had a hankering for something, he never said exactly what it was, but I know him well enough that I can be pretty sure whatever it was would have involved a lot of time slaving over a hot stove and probably gravy. When I finally told him my plans for dinner – grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup – his reaction was, “But, mom, I could make that myself.” Without thinking I immediately knew the correct response to this – it was one of those times when the wisdom of the ages seemed to speak to me.
My response, “Fine, then make it yourself.” So he did.
~The capital letters in today’s post have been brought to you by my dad. Dad, I hope this post and all its capitalization made you happy.~