Tuesday, March 24, 2015

I Don't Even Trust Him To Light a Candle With a Wooden Match

I'm not sure what's up with The Pony. He might be trying to grow up, or he might have an ulterior motive concerning his paramour (if left unsupervised, and if either of them ever gets a driver's license).

On Sunday, when I asked what he wanted for lunch, he chose pasta. Sometimes he has it with only butter. Sometimes he has it with red sauce. He's not picky. Just some Barilla elbow macaroni out of the box. It's not like I make it from scratch.

The Pony went looking to see if, indeed, we had any pasta, or if he was about to be poor Mother Hubbard's dog. Yes. He found some penne. And a jar of pizza sauce. So pasta it was! But here's the interesting thing: The Pony stayed in the kitchen during the preparation.

"I think I need to learn how to cook for myself. For when I go to college."

"Well, you're going to have a meal ticket for the first year. I don't really think they'll want you anywhere around a stove."

"But Genius said his dorm had a kitchen, and you could check out a spatula and skillet and stuff."

"Yes. But I don't think that's a good idea for you."

"I want to learn. So maybe this summer I can cook for myself."

"Okay. Here we go. I put a squeeze of this minced garlic in the water, because you like garlic. And I put a squeeze of it in your sauce. Because you like garlic. You don't like meat. So I put a little dab of butter in your sauce to give it some fat. And I usually put in a packet of Splenda. And grind in some black pepper. Don't turn it up too high, or it will splatter all over the stove. There. Your water is boiling. Let's put in some pasta. It will expand. Stir it around, but don't hold your hand over the steam. It will burn you. You can turn down the burner from high so it doesn't boil over. If it does, blow across the top until it stops, or lift the pan by the handle so it's off the heat for a second. Not too low, though, if you turn it down. It still has to boil. Watch your time so you don't overcook it. I put a dab of butter in that water, too, and some salt. Okay. Turn off the burners. Now when you go to pour out the pasta into the strainer, do not splash. Take it slow. Never set the dry pan back on the hot burner. It will be too hard to clean. Shake the strainer around to get the water out of your noodles. Pour them in the bowl. Pour the sauce over it. For you, that's it."

"Thank you so much for making this for me. I think I can remember how to do it for myself."

"Now...go take the laundry out of the washer and put it in the dryer."

Might as well teach him all about living on his own while I have the chance.

6 comments:

  1. Has he asked you to teach him how to clean the toilet? THAT is a skill men need to have.

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  2. Oh, you're pushing it, Val! : )

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  3. You're a smart mom to take advantage of the situation.

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  4. No matter what you write about, you always crack me up.

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  5. Don't forget to teach him how the dishwasher works. And I hate to admit it, but I learned a lot. Garlic in the water? And butter and Splenda in the sauce? I'm hoping he asks how to make Chex Mix next.

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  6. Sioux,
    Shocking enough, toilet scrubbing has not been a skill he has asked to learn.

    *****
    Catalyst,
    I know. When I go to town now, I tell him to stay in the basement. No coming up to the kitchen for snacks or ice. I keep having a flashback of that time he fell down the steps, and we found him on his back with a pool of blood spreading around his head. Which turned out to be ketchup from the plate of corn dogs he was carrying.

    *****
    Stephen,
    Well...I WAS valedictorian, you know...

    *****
    Lynn,
    Thank you. Mission accomplished.

    *****
    Tammy,
    DISHWASHER! (Imagine me saying that like Neidermeyer questioning Flounder about his PLEDGE PIN).

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9_EiSaNw3Q

    We don't have a dishwasher. So if he wants to know how the dishwasher works, all he has to do is watch my hands in the soapy water.

    For The Pony only, I put in a dash of sugar. When Hick indulges in the whole wheat pasta, I add Splenda. And he gets a heaping helping of hamburger, because he likes his sauce like he likes his soup: able to stack above the bowl, and be eaten with a fork.

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