Dinner with Grandma and Grandpa
My friend Paula recently asked me an intriguing question. Now that Bill and I were grandparents, she wondered if we were going to host Sunday dinners with Grandma and Grandpa. To be completely honest, I had never even thought of the idea. I found it charming but completely implausible, considering my track record when it comes to planning anything around here! Dinner yesterday is a perfect illustration.
I wanted to make steak and potatoes, but I also needed to do some crucial but tedious bookwork. Not a problem–I could do it at the same time. I gathered together my calculator, adding machine, steno pads, pencils and receipts and set them all on the dining room table. Bad idea. It drew the cats like a magnet. I left them to explore the boot box full of receipts while I went into the kitchen to put steaks on the grill. Seared the steaks, turned down the flame and popped a lid on top to stop the spatters, then I divested the table of cats and started working with due diligence.
Phone rang–spy phone said it was Rachel, so I grabbed it. Talking about Evelyn Jane was much more interesting than bookwork. We were chatting about baby poop and episiotomies when I heard a popping explosion from the stove. The lid I had put over the steaks had shattered, covering them with a layer of glass. I explained my current calamity to Rach as I quickly turned off the burners. I hung up the phone and surveyed the damage–it was almost three o’clock with no dinner in sight. The table was covered with cats and paperwork, and the grill was covered with steaks coated with glass shards. It was a good thing I wasn’t expecting company…
When I answered Paula’s Email, I told her that Dave’s parents were probably more likely candidates for actual sit-down dinners. We will be the ” Let’s go to the farm and see what kind of unfettered chaos is happening!” type of grandparents.Explore posts in the same categories: Uncategorized