The crap I feed my kids

"NO WAY, Momma," Daughter 2's rant began.  "There's NO WAY."

"I agree," sided in Daughter 1.  "It's disgusting, and I'm not eating it."

As usual, I was lost.

I sat in the recliner with my book wide open on my lap completely and utterly lost.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said calmly and coolly (cooley?  cooly?  Screw it. I was cool.) because even though the book was wide open on my lap, I was dozing peacefully.  It's the way I roll in the summer.

"Oh yes you do, Momma," Daughter 1, future lawyer, began her argument.  "You have it on the counter where you put the stuff you're cooking for dinner.  I don't know what it is, but I'm not eating it and neither is my sister, right?" She looked to her sister for solidarity.  They may have even raised their little fists in the air.

"NO WAY am I eating it.  It looks like crap," Daughter 2 confirmed.

Now my interest was peaked.  The meal I had planned was sandwiches and vegetables and I hadn't planned on making anyone else's sandwich but my own.  It's the way I roll in the summer, yo.

"Still don't know what you're talking about," I stated yet again.  "I planned on having sandwiches."

At this revelation, Daughter 2 began her whining campaign, "Sandwiches?  No.  I can make my own sandwiches anytime I want one."  Bingo.  She's a quick learner.

Daughter 1 quickly brought her back to the big picture. "Sister, it's better than that crap on the counter."  Twice they'd used the word 'crap'; this must be serious.  "When are you fixing that stuff that's on the counter?" See?  Lawyer material.  Daughter 1 knew she was off the hook for today, but she was arguing for that permanent reprieve.

"What's on the counter?" I asked.

"Crap," Daughter 2 hollered out.  Three times.  This must be some serious crap on the counter.

"What kind of crap?" I asked.

Dinner is served... in the front flower bed.

"Here," Daughter 1 said as she huffed to the kitchen and retrieved the offensive meal plan: The start of my sweet potatoe plant.

It makes me proud and horrified at the same time that they think I'd actually serve them a bedding plant.  I must be doing something right, right?

Funny thing is this:  They helped me get the sweet potatoes started!  Must have been one of my top ten moments as a momma for them to have so quickly forgotten.