— Beth, age 4, while holding a bite of french toast on the end of her fork above her head like a champion’s Olympic torch. She then devoured it and began cackling maniacally.
Using up scrips and scraps from last week’s groceries while making breakfast: blueberry/white chocolate pancakes with strawberries, and a spinach-steak omelette.
Actually, at urging from the kids, there is also some leftover mac-and-cheese in the omelette. Luke hates it. Beth loves it. I probably won’t do that again. But it used up leftovers (which was the main goal). The dog will eat whatever we don’t.
Everybody likes the white chocolate in the pancakes, though. Who wouldn’t want candy for breakfast?
— Beth, age 4, after offering to pray before a dinner she was expecting to dislike
Me: “What is this?”
Beth: [age 4] “I’m going to roast the baby doll.”
Me: “Roast? Like in the oven?”
Me: “That’s kind of mean to the baby, don’t you think?”
Beth: “Daddy, it won’t hurt her. She’s not a REAL baby. She’s made out of plastic! She’s fake! All my toys are fake, fake, FAKE! Sometimes they talk to me but even then they’re not real.”
Me: “I see. As long as you roast her in your fake oven, it’s okay.”
Beth: “Well OBVIOUSLY.”
Luke, age 8, made the salad for our dinner: washed and spun the spinach, tossed the spinach with dressing, chopped the carrots, thawed the corn, sprinkled the cheese, and finally crumbled tortillas over top. I wasn’t sure about that last step but he insisted, and I wasn’t going to interfere with an opportunity for him to help make dinner. It has been awhile since he offered to help make dinner, and I was pretty frazzled from the day, so this was genuinely helpful.
He even ate it.