How not to cook for your child
Nicholas and I love to watch Australian MasterChef. The most annoying part is that Nicholas loves to score my cooking skills. I always laugh – my cookery disasters are endless. It’s not that I can’t cook. I just get bored cooking everyday dishes.
In six months, I’ve destroyed three steamers; it’s costly. The slightest thing distracts me and I forget I’m cooking vegetables, resulting in a meal without the 5 a day and scrubbing the steamer to an inch of its life.
When Nicholas gives me a low score with a serious expression, – 10 out of 100 and full-blown description of what I have done wrong. I want to be the child, throw myself on the floor screaming “it’s not fair”, or sit at the table sulking. But no, I am the adult, I must set an example. It does not matter that I have had a crap day at work, I’m shattered, fed up and all I want to do is go to bed, read a good book, and disappear into fantasy land for a few hours before reality kicks in again.
I don’t want to hear “Mum, this is really burnt” or “Dinners ready” as the fire alarm goes off yet again. Trying to multi-task by finding a ladder or a long object so I can hit the alarm, wave a magazine or anything that I can get hold off to blow the smoke away, yelling to Nick “Open the back door”. At the same time, Nicholas is also yelling from the top of his lungs “It’s loud, turn it off”, then Gizmo is going scatty, running and barking excitedly as if it is one big game.
When I do finally dish up, Nicholas ask “Mum, is it burnt?”, I find myself telling that small white lie that the vegetables are not burnt, as I really want him to eat up so I can chill out. But no, this is where the -10 score comes into the equation, as he is not stupid, he can see the smallest mark on the food and refuses to eat it, because it tastes funny and has a smokey smell to it.
Back to the old faithful app Just Eat, we eat junk food and Gizmo scoffs down his burnt but healthy vegetables.