Daddy and My Cooking

Last Thanksgiving I made a pumpkin pie. I was so proud. But as they say, pride comes before the fall. I had made my own crust, and I think that was why I was so proud. I was excited to share my pie with my family.

Well, come to find out... my family members tasted the pie and finally admitted to me it was nasty. It had way too much salt in it. I had put 3/4 cups of salt in the crust instead of 3/4 teaspoon. Oops. My bad. (In my defense, though, I was used to making play dough for the kids at school... that takes a lot of salt...)

Jeffrey was just reminding me of this little cooking mishap. And he reminded me of my dad's honesty. "I can't eat this." Ha ha ha ha... Poor Daddy. And poor everybody else that tried to eat it.

But speaking of Daddy's honesty... sometimes I save leftovers for him and freeze them for him to eat when he wants to. He asked me once what I had made with the chicken. "Cous cous!" I replied. "What is it?" He asked. "Cous cous!" I replied. "But what is it?" He asked again. "It's just cous cous, Dad!" He hadn't ever had it. And he never wanted to have it again. But I forgot. And I accidentally gave him some cous cous another time... months later. "You gave me those little BBs again." He muttered. Oh Daddy... you're too funny. I appreciate your honesty, though.