A Saucy P.
P and I got up early yesterday morning with plans to engage in all sorts of autumnal mother/daughter activities. The first activity on our list? S’more making. Turns out, I have zero fire starting skills. Zero. I’m pretty good at rustling up a bunch of smoke, but it seems that marshmallow roasting requires actual flames. I eventually threw in the towel and called Chris out to help. I quickly discovered that he’s as good as I am at smoke production.
And as bad as I am at fire starting. Smokey Bear would be pleased. P was not. She finally decided she had waited (and coughed) enough so she jammed her marshmallow on the end of a leaf,…
…ate it, and went inside.
Fortunately, what Chris lacks in the fire starting department, he makes up for with his sauce making prowess. For the past month or so, he’s spent his Sunday mornings hovering over a massive pot of homemade sauce, sausage, and meatballs. It’s good stuff. Really good stuff. Unfortunately, we’ve yet to convince P to taste it. We’ve tried everything we can think of. We’ve attempted to induce guilt: “Daddy worked really hard to make this food for you. If you don’t at least try it, he might cry.” No good. We’ve tried to appeal to her sense of ethnic pride by saying stuff like, “But this is the special food of your people. Surely you can take one bite.” No good. We’ve also attempted to heighten the sense of importance surrounding the meal by allowing her to put aside the sippy cup and, for a change, drink her milk from stemware. No good. No matter what we try, P just stares at us, looking slightly annoyed, daintily sipping her milk from a Merlot glass.
Wee P, on the other hand, is a big fan of her father’s cooking. She’s also a big fan of the new, gargantuan pot I bought him for his birthday.
Fourteen months and 16 quarts. My, how time flies!
October 25th, 2009 at 11:13 pm
P is Cecelia and Wee P is Jack. I’ve big plans to make a sausage and mild cheddar cheese quiche Tuesday night for the kids. The adult version will have mushrooms, spinach, and goat cheese. I will not let my ego get wrapped up in their reaction. I will not let my ego get wrapped up in their reaction. I will not let my ego get wrapped up in their reaction. If I chant that enough times, d’ya think it will work???
November 5th, 2009 at 11:13 am
My child refuses to eat pretty much anything I cook. It used to really bother me–I mean, I’m a pretty good cook, and I’m one of those people who equates cooking for someone with loving them and taking care of them, so when she rejects my food, she rejects ME.
But I will admit that I have come to love and respect this “Amy” person who makes such decent frozen microwavable macaroni and cheese. If it weren’t for her and her frozen organic goodness, Lily would weight about 6 pounds.