The other day I had an opportunity to take a quick glance at my daughter’s cellphone, scrolling through her phone contacts and adding numbers for her aunts and uncles in case of emergencies. That’s when I found that my cell phone number was tagged as “Mum” not “Mom”. “Mum?” I asked handing her back the phone. Shrugging her shoulders she replied, “I’ve been calling you “Mum” for the last year. What took you so long to notice?” “Noticing and reading are two different things…” I replied. “But you know, there are worst things you could call me than a flower…” I added. Giving me a puzzling look in reply, she opted to employ her famous shoulder shrug adding, “Whatever MUM…”and walked away.
Due to extreme acid reflux, I’ve placed myself on a no fat/low fat diet while eliminating certain (most) foods from my diet. As the result, when dinner rolls around, I’ve been leaving the cooking to my husband, or rather, my doll. “I think I’m a better baker than chef,” She admitted the other night, after her planned dish didn’t turn out as well as she expected. “Doll, learning to cook isn’t easy. But the fact that you’re willing to take chances, find recipes and then attempt to make them speaks volumes about your confidence in the kitchen,” I tried. “It’s just baked goods make everyone feel happy afterwards…” She explained. “If you become a well enough cook, you’ll find happy people after eating your meals…” I encouraged. “Guess that kind of explains why you quit cooking, huh…?” She asked with a smile. “Ah….Oh… nice, ” I replied while she laughed. “Thing is doll, with the exception of your brother, I haven’t heard many complaints,” I added. “Oh yeah, what’s the one food he always said was your best dish?” She asked, knowing full well the answer. “Ball Park Franks…” I replied with a laugh.
Overhearing part of our conversation, the boy chose that precise moment to pipe in his unwanted opinion, “Still one of your best dishes, mom, however, that has taken a backseat to your Jiggs dinner”. Looking at his sister I replied, “See…even the worst critic can be tamed. All you need to do is keep trying”. “But that doesn’t mean you get a green light on everything you cook…” He began before I put up the stop sign. “That’s enough out of you mister. If you don’t care for my cooking, then learn to cook yourself…” He smirked at me in reply, before turning and exiting the room.