It’s not often that I cook. Everyone who knows me well knows my cooking typically consists of quick and easy items: macaroni and cheese (Velveeta, not that Kraft powder shit), spaghetti, sandwiches, zoodles, sometimes boxed preservative laden meats even.
I think it’s more the waiting part that turns me off cooking rather than the actual mixing, working and creating. I am very much the type of person who needs immediate results in order to be satisfied.
Cooking does nothing for me.
Once and a while I will bake. I love making chocolate chip cookies mainly because I eat more of the batter than I do the cookies. See? Immediate results. I’ve been known to slave over a few lemon meringue pies in my time, even some easy peasy cherry cheese cake type concoction I learned from my Gramma. Once again, all quick, all easy all requiring little to no actual baking.
Since having children I have taken a little more pride in cooking and baking. I’ve learned a few more recipes, I’ve actually made macaroni and cheese from scratch (THANK YOU PIONEER WOMAN!) and even indulged in bring baked goods to work. To feed my co-workers. To share. To proclaim to outsiders that I am indeed capable of making food stuffs save enough to eat!
Carter announced to me earlier this year that he LOVES pumpkin pie. LOVES. Because the lady at the daycare – The Cooker, The Daycare Lunch Lady, The Chef, or as I like to call her: The Procurer of Food for The Little People – makes a mean pumpkin pie.
So, for Thankgiving, I thought I’d spoil the little ankle biter and make him his own pumpkin pie. After all, what child could turn down a pumpkin pie made by their caring, doting and wonderful mother? Right?
I’ll spare you the disaster details of the actual pie making as they are irrelevant. But the kid got a pie. A pretty damn good pie if I do say so myself.
As we sat down to indulge in the delicious pumpkin-y goodness with a dollop of Cool Whip I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Carter’s little four year old face scrunch up in disgust. I played it off as nothing as I dove into the creamy goodness of my pumpkin filling.
The kids wasn’t eating anything. Not even a lick of the Cool Whip. I kinda suspected what may be coming, but I asked anyway.
“What’s wrong, kiddo?” I asked.
“This pie tastes like junk,” he said matter-of-factly, “and not the good junk either.”
Seriously? Are you SERIOUS, you little jerk? After I slaved over that pie for you. I measured. I mixed. I baked. I WAITED!!! And you call my pie JUNK!?I am NEVER. BAKING. AGAIN!!
But instead of letting him know how royally pissed I was that he dismissed my pie so coldly, I did what any parent would do in that situation.
I excused that ungrateful little shit loving and brutally honest child from the table and scarfed down his pie too.
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This post in brought to you by the Silicon Valley Moms Book Club. This month’s book is See Mom Run: Side-Splitting Essays from the World’s Most Harried Moms by Beth Feldman. The book is a culmination of short essays written by a number of very talented blogger who also just happen to be moms (including two short stories from one of my favourite writers, Liz Gumbinner of Mom 101). It’s witty, hilarious and ALL TRUE. Read it!
For the FTC blah-blah-CRAP: I was given this book for free and asked to write a post inspired by the book, not a review. Also? Suckit.
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Cody gets antsy when I tell the FTC to suck it.
I make a tasty pumpkin pie but I won’t touch the stuff with a two foot fork.
Squash doesn’t belong in dessert.
Ah don’t you love it when they are honest? Mason (4) will look at supper and go eww what is that?? That are honest…..
I would have eaten your pie and loved it! Kids can be such a pain, right? My 13-year-old is a very picky eater. I made him taste a cashew last night, just for funsies. He did, and after a few seconds said “I think I”m going to vomit.” From a cashew! He once gagged on a single kernel of corn. Sigh.
Ha ha! It’s always the recipes that I take longest on that my kids refuse. It must be a newton’s law.
YOU ate WHIPPED CREAM????? What changed, friend? You always said you wouldn’t eat the stuff because it looked like c**. LOL!!
We are at the point that even the wrong brand of boxed mac and cheese is not sufficient for the little parasites. Lovely.
Ohhhh, you are so much nicer than I am! He would have totally gotten an earful from me about being so rude to you!
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