It's been a trying week. Mitch is in DC learning about the evil that men do, and I am home learning about the evil that viruses do. Or mosquitos. My girls are sick, sick, sick. It could be Dengue or the flu, but since there is no cure for either, we've decided to simply hunker down and ride it out. Today is the first day that their fevers are below 102, so I'm optimistic. Between caring for them and trying to work from home, I haven't been up to making my usual arsenal of foods for the family. On the bright side, with Mitch away, who's going to complain that I set two rotisserie chickens on the counter and let the kids tear it apart with their fingers for dinner last night? Okay, I admit that was a low point.
Jack is not impressed with my lack of kitchen skills this week, and I am super-excited to see how he fares in college next year:
"Mom, do we have any bread?"
"Yes, there's some on the counter."
"No, that's store bread. Where's the homemade bread?"
"I didn't make any this week, you'll just have to use store bread."
"What am I, an animal?"
And then he proceeded to pour himself six bowls of cereal rather than eat the offensive store bread. It's not like I haven't tried to teach him to cook, he just refuses to learn. The other three kids love to cook. I'm sure he'll survive, but it will be interesting as he won't eat ramen noodles or any other convenience food besides cereal. He and a friend invited a few girls over to his friend's house for a barbecue a few weeks ago. I asked if he wanted me to show him how to make a few dishes, and he was all, "No, I've got it covered." When I asked how it went and what they ate, he said it hadn't gone very well. The girls weren't that impressed with their "meal", which apparently consisted of a slab of beef. And nothing else.