Everyone once in awhile, it happens. Dinner is ready-all bubbling on the stove and ready to be consumed as I'm flying through the kitchen, and Hubs isn't home yet.
The clock ticks.
I dish up a plate and stealthily take photos of it for later on when I'm writing.
And we wait.
Jake sniffs the air and asks, for the umpteenth time, what we are having and if we can eat NOW because he is STARVING.
By 5:30 I always give in because if there is anything I hate, it's cold, congealed food. I can't stand there looking at it, waiting, and at some point we always just go ahead. I save a plate for Hubs because inevitably the second I sit down and take a bite, his car will pull into the driveway.
Last night this happened and as Jake and I sat down to veggie burgers with an arugula salad, we began to joke about it.
"Just wait, Dad will say he just wants a sandwich."
He does this every time he is late and we've gone ahead and eaten, even if I've gone to the trouble of making something special that he WILL eat. Drives me nuts. If you were only going to have a sandwich, let me know so that I don't have to go through all this WORK of making you something else! Please! Gah!
"No, maybe not. He likes veggie burgers. I did make him one."
"Wanna bet? I have $20 in my pocket."
"I'm not giving you $20."
"A Coke. If he comes in the door and chooses to make a peanut butter sandwich over the awesome veggie burger I made him, I'll buy you a Coke."
Real healthy choice there, Ms. I'm all food revolution. Ya, whatever.
Hubs pulls into the driveway and Jake immediately begins quizzing him.
"So Dad, what'll it be? Veggie burger, or sandwich?" He eyes me with a grin. We both know who won.
"Oh I'll just make a sandwich," Hubs pulls out the peanut butter and Jake turns to me in triumph, grinning before taking a huge bite of his veggie burger.
"The Easter bunny can leave a six pack in my basket."