It's no secret that I am a terrible cook. I can not stand cooking with every fiber of my being. I am very blessed to have a wonderful husband, who is not only good at it, but enjoys it. He can open a fridge, look at what we have and wah-la - throw something together. It's practically magic.
When Mark is out of town, I usually:
a. pick up stuff to go
b. take Morgan out to eat
c. make macaroni and cheese.
Apparently the situation has gotten pretty dire and it's time for me to consider cooking lessons. This is what transpired this week:
I pick Morgan up from school and say "Let's go home and have some dinner".
She response with a panicked "Why? Are you cooking".
Morgan bursts into tears
Me: Why are you crying?
Morgan: "I don't want to eat at home. You don't cook"
Me: "I thought we could have some grilled cheese sandwiches"
Morgan (in THAT tone): Do you even KNOW how to make that?!
Yep, it's time for some cooking lessons.