If I had to say it with modesty (which is very unlike me I’ll have you know), I’d say that my wife is a marvelously gifted cook. She can take a blowtorch to a loaf of bread with her eyes closed and still come up with a perfectly palatable slice of toast. That’s a rare talent and I am doing my best to put it mildly.
When she makes her world famous in our home lemon asparagus pasta, I endeavour to do everything (within my not inconsiderable power) to not devour the plate on which that dish is served. Such was the case this evening as well I am happy to report.
She also has the lovely habit of telling our children what she is cooking so that they may some day get to show off to me that they didn’t take after me when it came to knowing their way around the kitchen. Now don’t get me wrong, I can find all the ingredients required to make a splendid cup of coffee in my sleep (surely you see the irony there…) but when it comes to making a dish (any dish ever invented by a human being), I must say that my own digestive system is the only one on the planet capable of handling that kind of radioactivity.
Having witnessed their mother exercising her awesome culinary super power in the kitchen yet again this afternoon, I took my kids to their weekly swim class where they reminded me yet again with unbelievable ease of another one of my charming shortcomings. There are some boulders on this planet that might float more than I would in a shallow pool of water. I did however get an opportunity to teach my son a thing or two (the theory of course) about S.C.U.B.A. diving upon seeing a sticker of a diver beside the pool. He was all ears and I dare say that upon learning the full form of this abbreviation, the diameter of his eyes rivaled that of our sun.
We came home in the evening and had what I can only describe as a sublime meal. Having thus satisfied our hunger for the day, we settled down to watch the children’s customary educational videos (well, they’re somewhat educational…) one of which happened to be about S.C.U.B.A. diving. My son’s choice of course.
As the video was about to end, my son walked up to my wife like a peacock does in the rain, looked her in the eyes and said, “Mom, I know that I am only 6 years old but I know all about S.C.U.B.A. diving! I even know what S.C.U.B.A. stands for!” My wife was already beaming with pride even before our son had begun to fully demonstrate his newly acquired expertise.
I don’t recall him mentioning where he gained that knowledge though. A little pat on my back would have been quite nice.
My wife egged him on and he said with supreme confidence, “S.C.U.B.A. stands for Self-Contained Underwater Breathing…Asparagus.”