Why Don’t You Just Tell Me The Name Of The Movie You’d Like To See

My kids are picky eaters. They are also animal lovers. That means, I cannot serve them food by names.

Instead of saying, “would you like chicken marsala,” I have to just say, “would you like marsala?”

Fish is now called, “salmon, tilapia.”

Meatballs are: balls with sauce.

But the other day, I decided to take the kids swimming during my prep time for dinner and asked hubby to bring home a roasted chicken. Back in the not too distant day, I would have nanny debone the chicken for it looked too baby like for me.

A task she, too, disliked. So, I would debone the chicken while the lone wolf in the kitchen and then call the kids to eat.

But the other day, hubby walked in and left the roped up baby on the counter for all to see. There was no time for my shudders of guilt for I had to quickly remove the chicken from the bones before my kids realized it was a real chicken.

I think I’m ready to skin a rabbit.

About Lady in Red

mom of 3
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