I love food. I love to cook it, and I love to eat it. I love to read about it and plan menus. I love everything about food.
Except cooking when my husband is gone.
My children are relatively typical elementary and middle school kids. They have thoughts about food. Thoughts like “Ick” and “I don’t like that.” We are middle of the road folks when it comes to kids and food. We don’t force them to eat everything that comes by their plate, but we don’t let them get away with eating whatever they want. Depending on the actual meal, we might force them to eat a little bit, or refuse their request to get something else. It is a fluid thing.
One thing that isn’t fluid, however, is how much I dislike cooking for just the kids and me. My husband appreciates my cooking. He enjoys eating flavorful food. He sees the value in trying new recipes. He is encouraging even when things don’t turn out great.
Not so much with the kids. And honestly, I’d be just as happy to snack instead of eat dinner. However, we are strict about that: we sit down and eat dinner as a family if it is at all possible. We’re also strict about not always having “kid food” available for our kids. They need to try new things and learn what they might be surprised that they like.
So here it is, six pm on a Friday, my husband is not expected home, and I’m dreading dinner. It is my responsibility to prepare something that resembles a meal and put the kids in front of it. And I don’t want to do it.
Anyone feel like pizza?