I’ve always said that I want to support my kids in whatever they choose to do, whatever dreams or ambitions they desire to chase. I want to stand behind them and cheer them on.
When I held my baby boy in my arms, I never thought that in a quick thirteen years he’d become a redneck gourmet, but life is full of surprises.
Last week he told me that he wanted to cook a hot lunch and bring it to school.
“What do you want to make?” I asked.
“Sausages and rice.”
“Well, I’ll have to get some sausages next week when I go grocery shopping. Do you want the fat links or are you talking about breakfast sausage?”
“No, no. I want the little sausages that come in the can.”
Realize the disbelief in my voice was heard around the world.
“Yes! Those are the ones.”
I’ve never in my life eaten a Vienna sausage. The mere thought of them completely grosses me out, but I aim to please and I figure they can’t kill him, at least in the short term. So I bought two cans of sausages and a bag of rice.
This morning my sous chef was simmering rice without the lid on the pot. He had a square plastic container with all these little pale colored sausages stacked up. Next to the “meat” he stacked a pile of sugar-snap peas, uncooked. Then he piled in a steaming mound of half-cooked brown rice.
He was so proud of this meal, happy at the thought of home-cooking. It almost makes me want to go out and buy him another can of sausages. Almost.
He’s lovin’ him a little redneck gourmet.
Hopefully it’s a stage.