Last night I had to go to my kid’s school to learn all about an assembly he’s having next week entitled, “Growth and Development Lecture,” a.k.a. let’s talk about puberty. I literally can’t even go into it. It was that traumatizing. So instead I’ll focus on the lasagna I made for dinner.
The meeting was scheduled for 6 pm, which meant that I had to have dinner in the oven before I left. There are a few steps to actually baking the lasagna, so I decided to make a handy flow chart for my husband so he would know what to do while I was at the meeting:
I even had him look it over while I was still at home to ensure that he knew exactly what he was doing.
So I’m sitting in this meeting learning about the appropriate time to start wearing a jock strap when I get the following text: “Made an executive decision to remove the foil at 6:35.”
I ignore it. I have made a flow chart so that HE DOES NOT HAVE TO MAKE EXECUTIVE DECISIONS.
A few minutes later I receive the text “Disaster, still not bubbling” along with a video of the lasagna actually cooking in the oven. I’m assuming he did this to prove to me that there was, in fact, no bubbling going on.
Honestly, I did not need this. I had a lot on my plate at that moment and it involved being prepared to answer questions like, “Help, I think I’m growing breasts even though I’m a boy. Is that normal?” and God help me I HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE what the answer to questions like that are.
Anyway, I got home to find that the lasagna was fine. My husband had the audacity to ask me how it tasted like HE was the one who made it when all he did was take it out of the oven. It was a very rough two hours.