My youngest child will be turning 18 years old next year and she will be headed off to college in the fall. I decided that, although she will be living in the dormitory where food is provided, she should still learn to cook a few simple meals so she is able to feed herself when she is living on her own. I did not want to make the same mistake I made with her older sister. That one is already off to college and starving to death. Her apartment has a full kitchen and she insists that she is fixing meals for herself, but when she comes home she never stops eating. The last time she visited, I couldn’t pry her out of the pantry with a crowbar.
But, let’s focus on the younger one that might still be salvaged.
I broached the topic a few nights ago with the leech … excuse me … child still living at home. I told her that I thought it would be a good idea if she started fixing dinner for the family one night each week. It would give her a chance to learn some simple recipes and learn a few basic cooking skills. I expected some resistance from her, but to my utter shock, she was excited by the idea. She told me, “Now I can cook some things from my cook book!”
I was initially confused by the statement, since I had no idea what she meant by “my cookbook.” I asked her, and she replied that she was referring to the cookbook she got for her birthday. She immediately ran into her bedroom and returned with a dog-eared children’s book that she had received when she was seven years old. I had seen the book on her bookshelf many times in her room, assuming it was just another picture book she had held onto from her childhood, but, lucky me, the thing was actually a cookbook. On the cover was the caption “Meals You Can Cook Today.” What it didn’t say, and I believe should have added was, “But Really Shouldn’t.”
My daughter began to flip through the book, musing out loud about what she could fix for dinner for the family. As I looked over her shoulder, I saw such gustatory delights as: fruit in a cup, carrot and celery sticks, and, my personal favorite, jelly sandwiches cut into triangles. Yes, there is a recipe for jelly sandwiches. I have seen it with my own eyes. Somebody took time out of their life and got paid to write it down and publish it in a book.
I am left to wonder if that person is proud of their accomplishment, or if they sit at home alone at night questioning their life decisions. And I can’t help but imagine what that might look like on a resume.
Interviewer: “It says here you published a recipe for jelly sandwiches.”
Author: “Yes, sir. I’m quite proud of that one. Unfortunately, I ran out of room on my resume or I would have added that I also published a recipe for peanut butter roll-ups with white bread.”
Interviewer: “Next!”
My daughter was so excited as she read through her cookbook (insert eyeroll and air quotes here), I almost didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was no way I was going to eat any of that crap. Almost. I want to encourage my children in their endeavors, but not to the degree that it might impact me in any way. That’s what makes me such a good dad. I am teaching them the importance of boundaries, and not doing stupid stuff that requires me to participate.
They will thank me for it later.
On a side note, as I write this blog I am reminded of a question one of my readers asked me. They wanted to know how my family felt about being mentioned in my blogs each week. Were they upset at the things I said about them? Was I concerned that they might be mad at me?
Well, to answer that question, let me tell you about a conversation I had with my oldest daughter very recently. I took her out to a local sandwich joint that day to feed her because, as I discussed earlier, she is absolutely helpless in a kitchen. Out of curiosity, I asked her if she had read my latest blog. She set her turkey sandwich down between unhinged snake-jawed bites, and she looked at me as if I had asked her how she liked the second head I was growing.
She swallowed and said, “You have a blog? Since when?”
So, am I concerned? Not really.