Grits

Since the birth of the little boom I have been making all the meals we eat in the house. The good lady has managed to dodge out of cooking anything with a variety of new mum excuses.

Oh, the little one wants a feed.

or

Oh, my vagina is still sore.

However, I just returned to work and as part of my corporate slavery I am not around to be whizzing up a storm in the kitchen each day.

Last night I returned home from work. It had been a long and trying day and I felt that some good nosh would revitalise me.

Want me to throw some tasty food together?

I yodelled from the hallway as I got in the door.

Oh no Daddy, I got this one!

I walked into the lounge. There was the good lady standing proudly by the dinner table. Two bowls were sitting there, the contents within steaming away. She beckoned me over and I sat down. Ah, this was nice.

I wouldn't have minded making something lass. I know you have been busy with two kids today.

It was the least I could do what with it being your first day back.

She was beaming. Her excitement and happiness was infectious. Smiling, I looked down at my bowl. It contained some brown bitty concoction with black bits.

I looked up at the good lady aghast.

Is this grits???

What, no?! It's Tuna and Olive pasta.

I looked suspiciously at the pile of stuff in the bowl and surreptitiously pulled my phone out for a quick googling. Hmm, no, it definitely wasn't grits, although grits looked equally as awful.

Why doesn't it look like pasta?

The good lady's cheeks reddened.

I might have overcooked it a little. If you don't want it you don't have to eat it.

The good lady's voice quavered slightly.

My inbuilt danger danger radar began to ping. I quickly forked some of the brown muck into my mouth.

Eurgh, it was fetid. Like soggy pieces of skin.

I stretched my lips apart in a big grin and looked at the good lady .

Mmmm, its actually yummy! Thanks and well done you!

She eyed me suspiciously.

I put on my very best I love eating shit face and got to work.