Mealtime

My mom came recently to help us out when our little guy was born. And a HUGE help she was. One evening at dinner we got to talking about dinner when I was growing up. She prepared meals for me, my sister, and herself. I won't name names, but two of these people were extremely picky in their eating, so we pretty much had a handful of "standard meals" that she would cook for us every week. Meals that she knew would not go to waste and would not cause her to listen to excessive whining and moaning of sorts. (Oh how I feel her pain.....now)

In talking about those childhood meal memories, it made me think of my mom's stroganoff.

And it made me want to cook it.

I had never made it for the girls before, so I expected to have full-on meal rebellion.

And I did.

One child wouldn't even try it.

One child licked a microscopic drop of it off her fork and asked for dessert.

And the other child actually tasted it and inquired about how exactly I made it in a conversation that went something like this:.

Miss Demeanor: "Uh, Momma? What's in this stroganoff-inhoff stuff?"

Me: "It was made with meat and soup"

Her:" What kind of soup?"

Me: (knowing that mushroom soup would spur a whole new level of rebellion) "Cream soup."

Her: (staring at her plate with a questionable look) "Oh. Cream soup. Umm...that's very interesting."

At least she actually swallowed some.

Oh well.

I ate it.

And it was good. In fact, I enjoyed every bite. But it probably won't be entered on the list of family favorites.

And tonight, my hubby volunteered to make dinner.

He makes a mean Asian cuisine that would make his momma proud.

This time, he even enlisted a helper chef.

Too cute.

And waiting by the table was Miss Bittles.

Showing her loyal affection and fondness for her Three Cheese Ranch dressing.Dinnertime has twisted in a whole new direction.