I should have known better, really. With his history of picking an entire arm roast out of the pot of vegetable beef soup to build a towering bowl for himself, and last week's curious incident of the missing bacon in the green beans. But no. I went and did it tonight at supper.
"Just pick out what you want."
You see, it was just me and Farmer H. The Pony is away at Boys State. I whipped up a skillet of beef and broccoli for us. And by whipped up, I mean I cut open a bag of frozen beef and broccoli that I bought at Save A Lot, and heated it for 8-10 minutes on medium high. Then I stirred in a bag of frozen Chinese stir-fry vegetables as an afterthought.
"I know you don't like peppers. This has snow peas, water chestnuts, yellow squash, red peppers, yellow peppers, broccoli, and carrots."
So Farmer H took his medicine and came to the stove. I did not watch while he picked his portion. I went back for mine, and saw that I had some rice. A piece of beef. Several snow pea segments. A couple of carrot slivers. A handful of yellow squash. And a stalk of broccoli. Which is not to say Farmer H did not leave me enough. There was plenty of rice. And red peppers. But nary a water chestnut.
I think I will offer to bring his plate to the La-Z-Boy while he watches car auctions on TV. I'd be doing him a favor, really. And the nutritional value of our meals would be more equitable.
4 comments:
Act like you're doing what wives are supposed to be doing. Fixing the meal and serving it to him, like he's the king of his castle.
He won't suspect a thing...
Sioux,
I think you know him. Or, as my mom told me the day before I got married, "Honey, they're all alike." You'd think she could have given me a little more advanced warning.
I never ever let He Who choose his own food ..... we would be eating tacos every night. I just fix him a plate and he eats it obediently.
Kathy,
And you would also be up to your ears in peanut butter jars, not just up to peanut butter on your ears from the pillowcase.
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