I made something horrible for dinner. You'd think by the way certain kids carried on that I went into the backyard, scooped up dirt, added some slime and threw in a couple slugs for good measure. Then I warmed it, and put sour cream and cheese on top to cover the nastiness up.
This awful confection in real life is called Chicken Tortilla soup. (I did make corn bread too, to compensate for my mean-ness.)
I served small portions for all the kids, and larger ones for Ryan and myself. Everyone got a piece of cornbread regardless of if they actually ate a bite of the soup. Now, if they wanted another piece of cornbread, well.... they would have to eat some soup.
(Overheard at the table)
Emma: Ugh. Why do I have to eat this?
Mom: It won't kill you, you know.
Emma: (sigh) I know.
Elizabeth: It didn't kill me!
Mom: Oh good. I was momentarily worried that it might. (Can you sense some sarcasm?)
Elizabeth: I took a bite and waited and I didn't die. So I ate and ate the rest and guess what? I didn't die! You would see if it killed me, Emma.
I don't know whether I should be more amused or offended that the kids think I might kill them with my cooking.
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We also learned tonight that Annie can burp "Amen." I am raising ladies, all right.
4 comments:
that's just awesome.
My sister-in-law Blair texted me tonight (after reading this post) to let me know my cooking hadn't killed her either. Whew. I had no idea everyone thought they were literally putting their lives into my hands when sitting down at our table to eat. ;)
Oh, I'm sure when I have kids that they will have the same complaints.
I am so glad that this conversation has been documented! That was just great!
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