"You're not a great cook, you know? You don't always know what to make. Rachael Ray always knows what to make. Ina [Garten, from Barefoot Contessa] always knows what to make."
(My children watch cooking shows with a passion).
This was from my almost-six year old as we pulled into our driveway on the last day of school. I'd just informed her we weren't having sweet corn for dinner (her request), but lentil soup and corn tortillas. I'd probably throw some salad in there too, but didn't tell her.
She'd jsut spent the last forty-five minutes sobbing in the car on the last day of school. "Do you know I"m mad for three reasons?" she asked. 1) she'll "never see" her kindergarten teacher again; 2) she didn't get to have a cupcake with the rest of her class (blame food allergies); 3) Mom won't commit to letting her go to first grade next year (we're considering home school).
I was totally empathetic to her feelings of missing her teacher, and the treats and the idea of not going to first grade next year, but the last accusation sort of got on my nerves. Hello? Rachael Ray knows what to make cuz she's got a staff of a bazillion people who iron her clothes and grocery shop and prewash her veggies while she experiements in the kitchen. Rachael Ray does not have young children to look after and if she did, I bet they would hate her freaking tortoni sundaes.
I wonder if this is just the first in a line of random and unfounded accusations my kids may throw my way as they grow and watch the rest of the world. They'll make conclusions out of context: Everyone else's mother is letting them go to the sleepover. Everyone else's mom knows what to make for dinner. What a bumpy ride. I'm buckling my seatbelt.