Leanna Kay

Bob has been traveling again recently for work. When the kids were little, I would practically wrap my arms around his legs to prevent him from leaving me with three helpless beings all still in diapers. Invariably the minute he’d walk out the door, the kids would develop pneumonia or start projectile vomiting.

But the kids got older and lost their ability to coordinate the spewing of their bodily functions. So now I let Bob out the door without the usual histrionics and downright begging.

A few weeks ago, Bob spent most of the week in Canada. As a treat for the kids while he was away, I let them each plan a meal with anything they wanted. Well, not anything. After I got their menus consisting of cotton candy, ice cream and jelly beans, I made it clear that the meal had to include something with nutritional value. And no, even though some jelly beans are green, they don’t count as a vegetable.
 
Chris was particularly interested in making the meal of his dreams. He spent hours thinking about what he wanted and writing out a detailed menu. After all the planning, I was sure the kid would want something complicated. Nope. He requested hot ham and cheese sandwiches, corn, green beans and peaches. I thought this was easy enough until we sat down to eat.

“Mom, the ham’s supposed to be the thick cut. Not slices.” The critique started the minute the he peeked under the bun. “And the bun is cold. It should be warm.”

“Where are these rules coming from?” I asked. Nothing in my Betty Crocker cookbook said anything about warm buns.

“That’s the way they make them at school.”

School? The kid was given the option to eat anything in the world he wanted. Had my mom ever been stupid enough to say that to me, I would have had lobster flow in from Maine and chocolate cake ordered in from a Swiss bakery.

My kid? He wants me to precisely duplicate the school cafeteria menu. What does that say about my cooking when my children are begging me to cook more like the school lunch lady?