I made Eggplant Parmesan for dinner, and It was delicious.
So delicious that one of my sweet children threw it up in his plate after the first bite.
I grew up eating whatever my mom cooked.
The end. End of Story.
There was no crying.
There was no complaining.
And, let me just tell you, there was no throwing up in my plate.
This might not be a big deal to some moms, but it is to me.
I want my kids to eat what I cook and be grateful for it.
I don't want to serve tacos, pizza, and hot dogs seven nights a week.
I want them to eat their vegetables.
It's not enough that they eat enough fruit to feed the army and drink enough water everyday to fill a bathtub.
I just can't imagine that this is too much to ask of my kids.
I will fix Eggplant Parmesan again, and it will be served to everyone.
This is one of those nights when I probably just need to put my pajamas on and go.to.bed.
Did I mention that he was sweet?
Did I tell you how grateful he is for so many things in his life, other than vegetables?
okayyyyyyy. I think I'm done for now.