Genius decided he was going to make himself some supper last night. That's because my cauldron of homemade chili was not good enough for his champagne wishes and caviar dreams. So he set about making himself a quesadilla. Funny. Politically incorrect Blogger does not recognize the spelling of quesadilla.
The poor boy was weak with hunger, having waited for me to finish working late and get home after five and show him where the bag of frozen fajita chicken was. He had looked everywhere, he said. Except the second shelf of the freezer, where it was visible from across the cutting block. He knew better than to ask me to make it for him. Remember, we have a short-temper-cook kind of kitchen.
First he twisted that bag six ways to Sunday. "Uh. Could you hand me some scissors? I can't get this open."
"You just pull on it. Pull both sides in the opposite direction."
"I just tried that. Didn't you see me? It won't come open. I have to cut it."
He butchered. "Oh. Look, it's resealable. Except it isn't. Look! It's pulled loose from the sides, still sealed."
"I wonder how that happened."
"I don't know. But it wasn't me."
I filled the sink to finish last night's dishes. Genius put some strips of chicken on a paper plate and microwaved them. While that was going on, he grabbed a jar of jalapenos off the counter and twisted open the lid.
"Are these supposed to have a film on top?"
"I don't know. Maybe. How long have they been there?"
"Since I used them last week."
"Have you ever heard of refrigerate after opening?"
"No. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Didn't you put them in the fridge after the first time you used them?"
"No. I put them back on the counter. Can I use them now?"
"Sure. Put them in the fridge after. Maybe I'll get some more NEXT SUNDAY when I go to the store."
The microwave buzzer went off. Genius grabbed his plate of chicken. "Ow! That's HOT! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
"What did you expect when you heated it?"
"Not for it to get that hot. Can you hand me the tortillas?"
"I'm kind of busy washing dishes and heating up my chili at the moment."
"And grab me that cooking spray, too."
"Who's cooking this meal, anyway?"
"I am. But you're in my way. Here. Now put it back."
"I'm going to need the lid. You know. That bright blue thing you just took off."
Genius reached into a new bag of Taco Blend shredded cheese. "Do you have to do that? You should sprinkle it out on a plate, then pick it up. You've contaminated the whole bag."
"That's what I did last time, too." He put a wad of shredded cheese into his mouth and licked his fingers.
"Yuck. Remind me not to eat any of that. People have staph in their mouths. Now we've got staph cheese. It's probably butt cheese, too, the way kids wash their hands these days."
"Tastes fine to me."
"You're in my way. Give me my chili spoon. This stuff is still ice cold!"
"Just like your heart."
"You say it like there's something wrong with that."
"Where should I put this pan so nobody gets burned? In the water?"
"No. That would burn me. On the back burner."
"Doesn't that smell good? You've got to admit, I make a good quesadilla."
"Hand me that round pan. NO! Not the pizza pan. That's flat. I want the round pan."
"Mom! The pizza pan IS a round pan. What you wanted was the pot."
"It's a sauce pan. I didn't ask for a pizza pan."
"You should have asked for the pot."
"I'm so sure I'm going to say, 'Genius, hand me the pot.' "
"Heh, heh. That's what you all said back in the hippie days when you were in school. Give me the pot."
Sometimes, I find the work environment to be more restful.