The Dirt Field

I offered to bring a vegetable dish to my parents’ house for Easter dinner, but because my weekend has been really busy with riding and work obligations, I asked Bobby to handle making the dish. He fussed, telling me he didn’t know how to cook and didn’t have any interest in learning. I pointed out that even a monkey can follow the directions in a simple recipe, that it wasn’t solely my job to prepare the food, and that he needed to redeem himself after the Let’s Bring Cheesy Mac From A Box To A Wedding incident.

This morning, I gave him some suggestions for easy dishes he could prepare, but evidently he has changed his tune overnight because he shot down my suggestions, saying:

“I want to make something that people will try and be like, ‘Bobby, you made this?’ I want them to put me up on their shoulders and laud me for making the most amazing thing ever.”

He then went on to insist on making something complicated, using what he calls the “trial by fire” method. I hope that doesn’t mean he plans to burn the kitchen to the ground.

Also, I would like to point out that this is the same guy who looked at me kneading Irish soda bread on the countertop a few weeks ago, sighed heavily, and remarked, “Sometimes you undertake projects that stress me out.”