Your Cooking Is Terrible, Daddy

Disclaimer:

Like all my blog articles, this was written a year ago, long before the current lock down situation we are now facing. I hope this blog makes you smile, and all your family are keeping safe.

Sunday morning’s should always start with good news, but in my case it started with grim news. I learnt that my wife was going to church early, and I would need to get the kids to church on my own, and on time. Whoa their princess even army generals going to battle have help, how comes I suddenly got promoted to a general with no help? Forgive me people, but I could see things were going downhill and accelerating, so I used a . . . you will forgive me won’t you, promise? Okay, I was weak and used chocolate brownies to coax my kids to the front door, like rats. Although this worked, I still had to wait while Captain Chaos packed half the house, and upon passing through border patrol at the front door, my little girl failed passport control. My little girl looked like she had been in a convertible car doing around 300 miles an hour, so I asked what year she had last brushed her hair, but a very firm answer came forth immediately “Mummy did it this morning!” I could not argue with that, but suffice to say I was already building up my defence case for when my wife saw her, and I was not going down for this crime.

If you were a Daddy penguin, you would chew the food and throw it up into our mouths.

Church was over quickly and onto lunch, and this time it was me that was starving. My kids sat in the car and asked what was for dinner tonight, so I said “We’re having roast beef cooked slowly, and packed with yummy flavour and vegetables to die for.” My cheeky monkeys then announced “Oh so we’re going to Grannies then.” Hang on a minute my gourmet restaurant critics, Daddy can cook too, and I don’t normally receive complaints!

Having arrived home my wife cooked some fresh rolls, and as soon as the timer went off a stampede, last heard marching out of Noah’s Ark was heard pounding down the stairs. My little girls first question on entering the kitchen was “Why are you cooking bread?” To this I had no answer, so onto the chimps tea party, and like an old cartoon, hands were flying, food was thrown, and everything calmed down when food started entering their mouth, while I was still buttering my roll.

I finished making the ultimate roll filled with wonderful ingredients, and as soon as I took the first bite, my little girl announced “If you were a Daddy penguin, you would chew the food and throw it up into our mouths.” At that, funnily enough I stopped eating with a visual thought that meant I could not stomach the rest of my roll. My loving wife asked what was wrong, so I asked my little girl to repeat the statement, to which my so called loving wife announced “Oh she’s right, even birds do it for their little ones.” I suddenly found myself asking was it just me that’s normal round here, but it got worse don’t worry, so much worse. Not long after that visual description, my little girl asked “What are sausages made from?” I said normally pork, with . . I never got to the herbs bit when she said “Oh so it’s bits of pigs then.” At that moment I really was ready to stop eating and found my little girls visual descriptions to be the best diet I had ever encountered.

I helped clear the table, and I know you probably think some of the things I say are not quite true, but when I said food was flying at the start of lunch, I can prove I was being honest. I had to get a dustpan and brush and sweep under the table, and I am sure I could have fed another family with the left overs. Okay maybe an exaggeration, but there was enough to wonder if the new family policy is if you don’t want it, sling it on the floor and save washing up the plate.

The afternoon was filled with the little arguments that in a child’s world are equivalent to world wars. Having helped my wife to cook a full roast, we called the children who almost threw up in the kitchen when we announced a roast. Honestly our cooking is not that bad, but a roast does contain vegetables, so it was considered ‘disgusting.’ After lunchtime when the kids discussed throwing up food into babies mouths, I thought nothing could put me off my dinner tonight. Boy was I wrong, we looked towards Captain Chaos who was muttering and murmuring with cheeks the size of footballs. After some sign language, my wife said “You put too much in your mouth, didn’t you. Just spit it into the plate.” What!? Are you kidding me, was lunchtime not bad enough, yet here we were listening to Captain Chaos making hurling noises and then a large hocking noise, followed my an enormous thump onto his plate. My wife followed this by “Right, now eat your vegetables” like it was normal. Me, I was about to bring up my tenth birthday meal, and I was feeling like I had done eight days on a large boat with large waves.

Having finished my meal, just, Captain Chaos wrapped his roast potato into a wet wipe and announced he was disposing of the potato. So was it worth almost an hour of preparation and cooking? According to our food bin, no! If anyone needs me, I will be the dad in the shed sobbing his heart out.

Night, night lovely people, see you all bright as a button next week!