Tonight Jack made vegan wontons.
When it was all over and I was cleaning up the half-eaten cold ones, Jack said,
“Well that was a successful dinner!”
I looked at him in disbelief.
“So like, Violet biting her tongue until it bled and screaming while the smoke alarm goes off repeatedly throughout makes a successful meal?”
“Well,” said Jack, “it’s relative. I mean, the kids were not throwing their food.”
Omg. The bar for a good meal IS SO LOW.
At least I have a positive thinking husband.