I love eating with my parents. I do. The food is plentiful, cooked by excellent cooks, and I don’t have to do a damn thing. We had wine and cheese before the meal, just like civilized folks. (Well, things got a little crazy with the cheese plane once the kids figured out there was cheese to be had, but anyway.) After dinner I am pleasantly full and still don’t have to do anything (like clean up). And still later, after I’ve settled the kids down for the night, we have dessert. Just us adults. With coffee, even. I hardly ever make coffee at home. Not because I don’t like coffee, but because it’s kind of silly to make a pot of coffee for just one person.
So here’s how the dessert conversation went tonight:
Stepmom: Look, we have pie!
Me: Oooooh, pie.
Stepmom: We also have fruit.
Me: Fruit? Is there something wrong with the pie?
Dad: No, that pie is goooooood.
Stepmom: The pie’s fine, I just meant there’s fruit if you prefer.
Me: Wait, you’re placing a coconut meringue pie in front of me and asking if I would prefer fruit? What?
Dad: *laughing* I think she wants pie.
Me: Of course I want pie!
Stepmom: Okay, then have pie.
Dad: Oh, no… wait, do you know what else you can have? *walking over to microwave*
Mass hysteria ensued. We had reheated beans to go with dinner, and forgotten them for several hours in the microwave.
I still went with the pie. As did my father. But my stepmom is doing Atkins, so she had a Peppermint Pork Rind Bar or something. And we all had coffee. And everyone was happy.