We had “lunch” at IHOP today with my folks. Here’s what they are serving up for the kiddos in honor of the movie “Horton Hears a Who.”

I think they’re going to have to change the title of the movie to “Horton is a Type-II Diabetic.” Holy Crikey! I’ll take my Healthy Parent of the Year Award anytime now

Here’s hoping everyone had a Happy Eater. (ooh, I meant Easter…how’s THAT for a Freudian slip?)

Anyhoo, because I live to amuse basically myself back by popular demand here is a graphical representation of mine.

BEFORE EASTER ME

AFTER EASTER ME

Any questions?

I started out with good intentions. I usually do. It was lunchtime. It happened to just be me and the kids. We needed to go grocery shopping but I didn’t have time. One wanted sandwiches, the other one wanted nuggets at first. Then, they looked at each other, looked at me and yelled,  ”Pizza!”

A consensus. This is rare. All righty, I thought. I was sure we had some Dijorno or something like it. We did not. Ok, I didn’t have all the fixins for homemade. But…I had a major meltdown on my hands. They were determined.

Ok. I’ll just have to be creative. (Remember that phrase. Everytime I utter or think it, you can be sure it’s going to end up as a blog topic.)

Bread. Check. Pizza sauce. Not so much. Not even an inkling of anything remotely related to pizza sauce ingredients except for a teeny can of tomato paste. I DID have spaghetti sauce. Close enough. Right? They’re munchkins, how discriminating can they be? Cheese. Check. Pepperoni. Check.

I was an enabler, I know, but I couldn’t bring myself to participate any further. I handed them all of the ingredients and this is what they created.

This is what happened.

The ketchup was my daughter’s idea. “Ugh, but that will make it gross, honey.” Yeah, she looked at me with about the exact same expression as you have right now. Why not!

My son thought it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He wants to do it again.

I think I’ll stick with Taco Helper (husband’s working again tonight). It could end badly.

Disclaimer: This post would be more impactful with photos, I realize. However, the dh in question took my camera on the hunting trip in question…ergo, no photos. Just try to imagine and compare…a photo of professional-quality looking crap vs. actual crap.

 We have a tradition in our household. When my husband goes hunting, the kids get to plan our dinner menu. Most of the time, it’s McDonald’s. Occasionally though, they want home cookin’ of the Hamburger Helper variety. They are partial to “Beef Stroganoff” (warning: I feel an attack of overuse of “quotes” elipses, and parentheticals coming on).They wanted to mix it up tonight, however and have “Taco Dinner.” I don’t actually know what’s in “Taco Dinner,” but there’s hamburger, rice, “sauce mix” and taco chips. Yum.

Well, first problem is the skillet I was using, I think, had something stuck in the bottom of it. (It couldn’t possibly be that I actually burned anything). Smoke…everywhere. Billowing. The end product looked like a cross between wet dog food and…well…dry dog food but with taco chips on top and a powdery cheese mixture. But, I’m nothing if not persistent. And, I employ the same cooking technique as every other woman in my family. If the smoke alarm doesn’t go off, it’s a success (seriously, you don’t wanna know how many cell phone chargers I’ve melted because I usually use my flat-top stove as a counter). We ate it. They loved it. Blech.

Again, I would love to add photos of our fine dining experience. Instead, I’ll have photos of whatever kill the dh brings home. One of my favorite ways to torment him is when he calls home. I always ask, “Did you catch any deer today?” He loves that. He so needs to get back here, for the welfare of our childrens’ colons.

Robin