Dinner is always a challenge at our house. I love cooking (and I also love eating), but it’s tricky to please everyone. It’s rare we all eat the same thing, since Xander is super-picky, Oscar has food sensitivities and Maliah only has eight teeth. (Gideon has zero teeth, so he just eats mush. That and whatever he scrounges from beneath Oscar’s chair.)
But one thing everyone will eat is pasta. So one night last week I decided to try spaghetti and meat sauce.
It didn’t go well.
While I was making garlic bread, Oscar wandered in and picked up a nearly-full can of tomato sauce off the counter. “What’s this?” he asked. To get a closer look, he tilted it sideways.
I did a slow-motion “NOOOOOOOOO!” as sauce poured over his shoulder, down his back (some pooling in his hood) and hit the linoleum floor, where it bounced. And sprayed. Everywhere. Fridge, cupboards, dishwasher, and both of us, coated in tomato sauce.
So dinner was delayed for a few minutes.
When we finally did sit down to eat, more spaghetti ended up strewn around the kitchen than inside anyone’s belly. Oscar went at it with both hands, pretending each strand was a stick person that he bended and twisted and broke into little pieces. Maliah loved eating her spaghetti, but not quite as much as she loved flinging it.
By the end of the meal our kitchen looked like the set of a Tarantino movie. Clean-up took nearly two hours and required a mop, the bathtub and the washing machine. Only Xander escaped relatively unscathed, because he’s the kind of kid who doesn’t like one kind of food to touch another kind and therefore he refuses to eat sauce on his pasta.
Shawna and I were able to laugh in the middle of it all, but we also vowed that we won’t try spaghetti again for a few years.