Obviously, I’m very good at humiliating my son. And I’m confident that the older he gets, the better at it I will be.
Today’s egregious fathering fault was daring to suggest I send in a batch of cookies for him to share with his class.
Yesterday, I tested out a recipe for eggnog snickerdoodle cookies. His favorite cookie combined with his favorite holiday drink.
He loved them. And I had about 30 to spare.
But this morning the suggestion that I’d pack them up for him to bring to school resulted in a narrowly averted meltdown.
Apparently, it would be humiliating for him to bring in that sort of treat when it wasn’t his birthday. I have no idea why.
Here’s hoping what I did pack was better received. I settled on whole-wheat tortillas smeared with cream cheese. One was filled with ham, then cut into sushi. The other was filled with cucumber and rolled into cigars.
Add a pineapple yogurt and a slice of ricotta cheesecake (gosh, I hope that isn’t too embarrassing!), and I say that’s good enough.
Oh, the humiliation of being 8…