On Sunday, I cooked pot roast in the slow cooker and served with mashed Yukon Gold potatoes and peas cooked in butter (I hate peas). Nothing too difficult. My 8 year old is notoriously picky. I give her a largish serving of mashed potatoes, which she loves, a spoon of peas, which she used to love (I still hate peas), and a small serving of pot roast.
“Mom!” she says, “This is unexpectedly good! It’s not exactly excellent. It’s not exactly good. It’s somewhere in the middle.”
Tucking the girls into bed on Sunday night. My 5 year old and 6 year old in separate beds (they often like to snuggle together). Then I go into my 8 year old’s room. I put her pillow in place (because it was on the floor. Again.) and my little one (17 months) climbs into her bed and lays down on her pillow and pretends to snore. So I tucked the blanket around him. Then he sits up and points to the foot of the bed for the 8 year old to sleep at the other end of the bed. Then he snores again. I went downstairs thinking he would follow. Nope. So Daddy went up to get him. The baby laid his head on Daddy’s shoulder and . . . pretended to snore. Where did he learn that?
YEARS ago, I was in college, and my brother was in Kindergarten. He was student of the week and had to answer questions like, “What’s your favorite color?” and “What’s your favorite food?” One of the more interesting questions was “What do you not like to find in your lunch?” His answer, “Raisins because they remind me of zombie eyes.”