That is what my daughter said to me this last weekend (sorry, the laptop became a doorstop, so it went to the laptop doc for a few days) in her little "raise an eyebow, baby gibberish and squeal": Herbed Chicken and Pasta?! Spit. Vegetable Chicken?! I snear in the general direction of the jar. Meat Lasagna? Hah! You must be kidding simple minded crazy red-headed woman! Oh, and don't even talk Peas with me woman!
Or maybe she said that she knew where Hoffa was buried...one of the two.
H decided that she is no longer a baby and therefore will not be labelled as such by this community that labels people...and she is burning her little baby-bra by refusing that slop that we had apparently been feeding her.
Soooooo...you ask what I did? Well, after pointing out to her that she still adored the baby fruit (she raised an eyebrow at me like "you really want to drag this discussion down to this level? Well, give me them apples and cherries first, woman.") I started to cook. I anticipated the day that this may happen (and thought a 14.99 or so investment might get Murphy to smile on me) and had ordered a baby cookbook the week before.
Yes. Me. Skillet in one hand, whisk in the other. (OK, I love to bake, the whisk has been seen before...but the skillet?!) I crafted a shopping list and sent the husband off to the store. Yes, I've become June whats-her-name, but I still avoid the grocery store (SuperTarget I'll tolerate though). I made chicken and sweet potatos and grapes. I made fillet of cod in a cheese sauce with broccoli, carrot and peas. I made cod with tomatoes and zucchini. I'm going to make chicken, apples and some other veggie tomorrow. I'm almost out of plastic storage containers. My freezer is starting to look like a storage bin for someone fearing the end of the world is nigh...
And she loves it. She slurps it down. She still wants to know where her steak is, but we need a few more teeth for that (we got #6 in really well now.) So, I guess baby gets what baby wants...
And my husband? The one that has had the honor of me cooking for him about 15 times in the last 12 years of marriage? He's smartly keeping his mouth shut. Even when I did part of the dishes...he smartly didn't say a word.
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