What's for Dinner?
Do you do this dance?
We do.
Most of the time it's an aggravating task to be the one in charge of figuring out what we're going to have. You see, my kids are on meat diets, and they all have little preferences.
My beautiful wife works later in the day so we need to plan it and she starts it and I finish it.
But it ain't easy.
Sam doesn't like cheese. Jake doesn't like mashed potatoes. Neither one of them, believe it or not like pasta.
So the choices are limited a bit, and most of the time I feel a bit like a short order cook.
A week or so ago I declared it to be breakfast for dinner. I cooked a pound of bacon and prepared a full package of pork sausage. All the while I was flipping pancakes and making eggs.
I placed the pancakes in front of the boys and went to retrieve the bacon.
It was gone.
"What the hell happened to the bacon?" I asked.
"Wasn't it mine?" Jake asked.
The pork sausage suffered the same fate at Sam's hand.
"Are you kidding me?"
I scrambled around for ham to mix with the eggs. By that time they were looking for more pancakes. The toast popped up.
I thought of my buddy Pops who is forced to cook breakfast at dinnertime.
An hour later Kathy returned from work and grabbed her breakfast for dinner.
"That was easy enough, right?" she asked.
"Oh yeah, great."
And the question reared its ugly head again.
"What're we doing tomorrow?" she asked.
Thank God that two of the days are spoken for. Sunday and Wednesday are pizza and pasta.
I thought of my mother trying to come up with enough dinner for 8 people on a nightly basis, and you know what?
She never mailed it in.
Of course, she didn't cook breakfast for dinner, either.
We do.
Most of the time it's an aggravating task to be the one in charge of figuring out what we're going to have. You see, my kids are on meat diets, and they all have little preferences.
My beautiful wife works later in the day so we need to plan it and she starts it and I finish it.
But it ain't easy.
Sam doesn't like cheese. Jake doesn't like mashed potatoes. Neither one of them, believe it or not like pasta.
So the choices are limited a bit, and most of the time I feel a bit like a short order cook.
A week or so ago I declared it to be breakfast for dinner. I cooked a pound of bacon and prepared a full package of pork sausage. All the while I was flipping pancakes and making eggs.
I placed the pancakes in front of the boys and went to retrieve the bacon.
It was gone.
"What the hell happened to the bacon?" I asked.
"Wasn't it mine?" Jake asked.
The pork sausage suffered the same fate at Sam's hand.
"Are you kidding me?"
I scrambled around for ham to mix with the eggs. By that time they were looking for more pancakes. The toast popped up.
I thought of my buddy Pops who is forced to cook breakfast at dinnertime.
An hour later Kathy returned from work and grabbed her breakfast for dinner.
"That was easy enough, right?" she asked.
"Oh yeah, great."
And the question reared its ugly head again.
"What're we doing tomorrow?" she asked.
Thank God that two of the days are spoken for. Sunday and Wednesday are pizza and pasta.
I thought of my mother trying to come up with enough dinner for 8 people on a nightly basis, and you know what?
She never mailed it in.
Of course, she didn't cook breakfast for dinner, either.
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