Jakub: "Mommy, you're the best cooker!"
Me: "You mean I'm the best cook?"
Jakub: "Yes! I love that you always cook dinner for us and it's always so good!"
Despite the fact that history does not support his statement, I experienced a rush of warm, fuzzy feelings, overjoyed that for once, my effort is appreciated. Of course, the very next day, when Jakub learned what we were having for dinner, he acted like I had just told him I was simmering a pot of hydrochloric acid and bat's eyeballs with rat feces on the side. And then, today:
Me: "What do you boys want for dinner tonight?"
Jakub: "Ummmmm....I don't want anything you cook. I want something American."
Me: "What do you mean?"
Jakub: "Well I don't want to eat anything you cook, I want something American, you know, with the bread and the salami and the garlic like we went with daddy that one time."
Me: "You mean Jimmy John's?"
Now, don't get me wrong, I am the first to admit when a meal isn't up to par, but, for the most part, I am able to stretch my meager culinary talents to their limit and come up with meals that are halfway decent, if not pretty good--certainly edible--and I've been a parent long enough to know not to take things personally, but sometimes I could use a few more of those moments of appreciation.....