>I haven’t been feeling good at all this weekend & felt worse today. I have that respiratory thing going on. So, last night before bed after doing my breathing treatments, I decided to take a long, hot, relaxing shower. Got out, dried off and put on my comfy pj’s. After walking around the house for a few minutes, I took the towel off my head, took off my comfy pj’s and got back in the shower. Our teenage daughter heard the water running again and came into the bathroom to ask me if I had just taken a shower. “Yes, but I forgot to rinse the conditioner out of my hair.” She just laughed as she left me alone in my hot, relaxing shower…again. I blame it on the NyQuil I had taken.
Tonight as I was cooking dinner, our very tall, handsome 13 year old son Aaron followed the smell of food into the kitchen and asked the question he asks every night… “what’s for dinner?” I told him on the menu was chicken, brown rice & salad. Chicken? He said with a disappointed tone as he reached into the fridge and grabbed the package of hot dogs. After his hot dog appetizers, he ended up eating some chicken with us but he is definitely the pickiest eater in our family.
It wasn’t always like that though. When he was not even 2 years old, we stayed in this apartment that had a tiny kitchen. It didn’t matter what I would be making, he’d come into my small cooking space and wrap his arms around my leg. He would then look up at me with his big, dark brown eyes and in the cutest little voice, he’d say “you’re a good cooker mom”.
It didn’t matter if I was making Hamburger Helper or a gourmet meal, to my little guy, I was a “good cooker.” It always made me feel so good. Now he’s taller than I am, would worry me if he wrapped himself around my leg and usually complains about what I have on the stove. Unless of course it’s Mexican, then I’m a good cooker!
Over the years, my son has changed. Green beans used to be his all time favorite veggie, and now the only green food he’ll eat is salad. He used to love pork chops, especially when I cut them up for him in little pieces. Now he hates pork chops and would die if I cut his food up for him. He used to eat whatever I would put on his plate and now he’ll go to bed hungry if he doesn’t like what he sees on his plate. Time has changed him.