I had a smile as wide as my Mother In Law’s derriere, watching my boys plow through the lasagna I made.
I can remember my Grandma telling me that when you hear nothing but the silverware scratching the bottoms of the plates, you know that you made a wonderful dinner.
“Either that or you made a horrible one,” she’d say.
“In that case, don’t you dare eat it. Sit back and watch them eat. It’s quite funny seeing them politely choke down burnt meat.”
Oh my Grandma was always teaching me some wonderful life lessons.
“Momma, you made a good super for today,” my son said.
There is no success greater than having your 4 year old compliment your cooking skills.
“Thanks bud. So guess who’s coming soon?” I asked.
He tapped his chin that was slathered in pasta sauce, “Jesus. He’s dead. He’s dead in heaven.”
“Ahem,” Shawn squeaked from a mouth full of lasagna, “You’re right. It’s his birthday. Who else is coming to town?”
“Ok, who else?”
“My friend Robert but not his brother. His brother doesnt’ like my hat. I like my hat.”
“Who else? He shouts ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ And wears red.”
“I know!” he shouted, “Santa!”
“What do you want for Christmas?”
He stared at the ceiling deep in thought then said, “I want a cardboard box.”
“You want a cardboard box? What about toys?”
“No, I want a cardboard box,” he said as he began tackling the last few pieces of lasagna on his plate.
Shawn and I exchanged high fives across the table.
That night, Santa came early.
I think we nailed it.