The other day, Kishmish came whining into the kitchen as I was making dinner, and her chief complaint started with, “Mommmmmyyyyy, how come you never. . . .” Are there actually any good endings to that sentence? “Mommy, how come you never let us play video games?” “Mommy, how come you never let us have anyone over to play after dinner?” Or, the version that often comes from tired little ones around here: “Mommy, how come you never let us do anything we want to?!” Oh, Lord.
Can you imagine, then, how happy I was to hear this? “Mommy, how come you never make those yummy things with dal on the inside? You know those triangles, and we dip them in ketchup?” Hooray! My work here, as they say, is done! It’s fair to say that, right, when your kids start asking for real food? (Except for the ketchup part. . . . ) Read More