I babysat my nephew over valentines day so that my sister and her husband could go on a nice dinner date.
My nephew is two and I don't get to see him that much because he lives in California whereas I live in Baltimore.
Anyway, turns out my nephew's preferred meal of the moment is box mac and cheese.
Well, I thought to myself deviously, We're going to use this to show up my sister. No plain jane mac and cheese for my nephew! We'll sauté some carrot shavings, some caramelized onions, maybe even some fried mushrooms if we have any in the fridge.
Flames leapt from stoves, pots rustled and clanged, fridges poured its contents onto cutting boards, where the chatter of knives sounded.
Amidst the steam and commotion tender carrot bits, lightly browned onions, and crispy mushrooms were thrown into the final pot with the listless macaroni, mixed with passion, and presented with a proud flourish to the nephew.
Who proceeded to pick through it.
Not eating a single morsel.
His toddler fork clutched clumsily in his fist,
sweeping in out of the dish inexpertly,
he'd glance up at me from time to time, as if to say:
But why have you despoiled the pristine beauty of my repast with your barbarous culinary delusions? What have I done, dear uncle, to warrant such base treatment?
So, naturally when his parents got home with a chinese food box full of steamed broccoli he proceeded to devour the entire thing.
If I didn't like him so much I'd be insulted.
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