A Little Creativity in the Sentencing

Y'all.....

Y'ALL....

The Ducklings are on my very last nerve!

By "last nerve" I am referring to that tiniest microscopic spec of nerve-ending in the very tippy-tip of my left pinky finger where a sliver of hope still lives. This sliver of hope hangs on to the belief that one day my children might actually grow up to be productive adults who, occasionally, pretend to like each other... sometimes. The other 3.5 billion nerves in my body have checked out. They are done. They were all victims of the constant fighting between my children. I am told this is normal sibling stuff, but I have serious doubts. Certainly my children excel in this endeavor.

Here's a rundown of how the most recent fights began:

• He's touching me
• He looked at me
• He's being annoying
• I'm sure he's the one who farted
• He sat down RIGHT NEXT TO ME
• He won't give me the Xbox controller
• But it's MINE
• I don't like how he breathes

And my personal favorite.... 

• He put his toes up my nose

These were real fights. I'm not even kidding. And these are the reasons my very last nerve is about to just give up and join the other 3.5 billion nerves in some sort of catatonic state where we watch reruns of I Love Lucy and drink wine. Seriously!

Their most recent squabble just did me in and I laid down the law. I was forced to get creative in my sentencing and hit them where it really hurts. That's right... I gave them HOMEWORK. (Homework: the word that strikes fear into the very souls of male children in junior high).

Here's the assignment: "You must write your brother a letter and describe what you like, appreciate or admire about him. It must be hand-written and I want to see your very best writing. Don't just phone it in and give me some unrecognizable chicken-scratch... I want to see some effort. No, you may not use the computer. This assignment is due in 30 minutes... and Go."

And now... for your reading enjoyment, I give you...THE LETTERS. Let's critique them together...shall we? (Have mercy)

Daniel's Letter   

"Dear Andrew, 

Hello Andrew. It's nice to see you. Let’s just get straight to the point. I pick on you and you pick on me. I don't know why we do that. I just want to say I appreciate you. You are a good person and I have always wondered how you make friends so easily and how you stay so thin. I also enjoy your nice style and respect how you wear your hoodie. Have a great day. 

Sincerely, Daniel"

Daniel decided to draft his letter as if it were an e-mail. In the upper left hand corner, he lists an email address as his return address, along with the phrase "You got mail" next to a drawing of an envelope. Nice touch, dude. Apparently Daniel comes from the year 1996, where AOL reigned supreme and "You've Got Mail" was a thing.  

The super nice tone here sounds the alarm on my mommy "crap-o-meter". Oh sure, this sounds pleasant, but I suspect this narrative includes a good measure of snark in the undertones. Just a hunch.  The hand-writing is atrocious, however it’s hard to fault him for that since students these days rarely have to write anymore. I consider this a grave injustice to an entire generation.... but that's a rant for another day. Moving on... a solid effort by Daniel. I'm giving this one an "A-". He covered the basic points, told his brother what he appreciates about him and gave him a few compliments on style.  Nicely done. 

Andrew's Letter

"Dearery Daniel,

i like it when your not touching me or in my room or when you compliment me. Here is yourses letter.

Senserly, Andrew"

Where to begin? Oh I know...How about with the invention of the words "Dearery", "Yourses", and "Senserly"? Apparently Andrew really likes it when Daniel is just not in his space at all. This is what he LIKES about his brother. Oh... also he likes it when Daniel compliments him. Translation: "I will tolerate you when you say great things about ME, otherwise, I just have no use for you at all." That sums it up quite nicely.  This is like saying "the end of that song was my favorite part... no, not the last line... the END... the part where you stopped singing... Yeah, I liked that part". I would completely fail Andrew for this sorry submission; however he squeaks by on the sheer amusement value he provides to me. Buddy gets a "D".

So, mothers of the grown-up children... help a sister out. Please tell me this is normal behavior for two tween brothers. Tell me it's a phase... they will grow out of this... they will eventually love each other. Tell me lies if you must. Just tell me whatever it takes for my very last microscopic spec of hope to survive. Otherwise, I’m gonna need to just check out. You’ll find me on the sofa, in my jammies, eating ice cream and binge-watching Happy Days while I completely ignore the chaos in my home. Because this is what life will become when my VERY LAST NERVE gives up on the game. Seriously!

That Time I Realized My Thirteen-Year-Old Was 6'2"

Photo by Chen Hu on Unsplash

Dear Mommies of the tall children, I need your input. If you have adult children who are extremely tall, please help me navigate this tall-baby season of life. Here's what's going down in my world...

One day my baby boy was a precious bundle of cuteness and love. Fast forward two months (I swear) and this same child is one giant, freakishly tall, man-child. Oh, and he's only thirteen. Y‘all...last year I had an anxiety attack when I realized the child and I were the same height. (I'm 5'10. Well I was 5'10" in high school anyway. The jury is still out on what three decades and gravity might have done to my height. But, I was once 5'10" and, lacking any concrete data to suggest otherwise, I'm just going with that.) But I digress. So one year ago, when he was twelve, we were the same height. That means my child has grown four inches in one year. This gives me all the feelings, none of which I am prepared to face at this time.

This boy/teen/giant-man-child is exactly the same height, size, and weight that his dad was when we got married. So I am not exaggerating at all when I say that my “boy” is the size of a large thirty-year-old man...except with a baby face. This gives me hives.

Putting my feelings aside for a moment, I'd like to focus on the practical. Like, I have questions y‘all! Serious questions! Here they are in no particular order.

1. If the child is 6'2 at the ripe old age of thirteen, what might his expected "adult height" be? Are we talking 7'9" or will this massive growth spurt settle down into something a little more manageable?

2. Should I ditch the idea of ever buying pants and just make him wear shorts until he is 21?  I mean, the purchase of pants, at this point, seems rather counter-productive.

3. Should I just buy stock in Levi's and maybe get on an auto-ship program that sends pants in a new length each month? Does Levi's have an auto-ship program? Why not? That's a genius marketing concept!

4. Why hasn't the junior high basketball coach been all over this child like stink on a skunk? I mean... he's a full foot taller than all the other 7th grade boys. That alone would strike fear into the heart of every other junior high basketball coach in the league. He doesn't even need amazing athletic ability. He could just stand there and be the rebound king. (It worked for Shaquille O'Neil... amiright?)

5. Why does this child have zero interest in basketball? It seems a waste of a God-given blessing to not use this height to his fullest advantage. Clearly he doesn't know our retirement portfolio has included the letters N, B, and A since our two-year-old was mistaken for a first grader.

6. The child wears a size 12 shoe. When will his feet stop growing? Will he end up in a size 17? Does Nike even make a size 17? Does his future involve roaming the streets barefoot, due to the lack of proper footwear? Where does Shaquille get his shoes? Will I have to sell a kidney for those enormous sneakers? 

7. What will this growth do to my grocery bill?  In your experience, is there some sort of formula for the amount of food this child will require?  "X" pounds of food, per inch, per month... or something? 

8. Does Kroger have a payment plan or could we maybe work something out? "Hello Kroger, I'd like to put 400 steaks and 84 gallons of milk on layaway. Thanks!"

9. Will there ever be a second, (other than between the hours of midnight and 5:00am) in which this child will not be "starving"?

10. Will he even fit into his college dorm room bunk bed? If not, will he just sleep in a park (in shorts and without shoes) because he needs wide open space to accommodate his giant-ness? What would that do to his social life?

These are the things that keep me up at 3:00am. (Well, that and an energy drink consumed at 7:30pm) So, all you mommies of the fully grown tall people, help a sista out. Any input you can provide is greatly appreciated. 

And Then THIS Happened!

What happens when you devote two posts in a row to your quirky kids and their desire to pretend you are a competitor on MasterChef?  A casting producer somehow stumbles upon your blog and invites you to submit an application for a cooking show. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  This email not only intrigued me... it gave me great joy!

Here's the email:

"Hi Loretta,
My name is Jillian Bonanne and I am a casting producer for testimonials for a fun new product. We are currently casting for inexperienced home cooks and would like to inform you about our search! 

We are looking for inexperienced home cooks that are ready to gain some confidence in the kitchen with an amazing new product. Do you have a passion for food, but need a little help in the kitchen? We want to hear from you!

For your convenience, I have attached a copy of our flyer that further details what we are looking for and how to apply. Please feel free to post this on your website, send out to any list serve you may have or forward it on to anyone you think may be interested. Any help spreading the word about our search is greatly appreciated!

For more information and how to apply, please visit our website at www.jscasting.com. If you have any questions or require further information, please email us at newhomecooksproject@gmail.com or feel free to contact me directly.  Thank you for your time and assistance.

Sincerely,
Jillian Bonanne
Casting Producer"

My first thought was hey... I'm a good cook! But then I had to admit that "good cooks" don't make tacos and spaghetti every week. Nor do they find a way to screw up Mac & Cheese... EVERY DANG TIME! (Hello scrambled-eggy-gooey-cheesy-noodle-slop).

"Good cooks" make snobby sounding food like...

CONFIT FILLET OF PORTUGUESE ROUGET"

Green Asparagus, Young Almonds, Meyer Lemon, and Brown Butter "Mousseline"

and  

CHARCOAL-GRILLED DIAMOND H RANCH QUAIL BREAST

Cauliflower Florettes, Muscat Grapes, Virginia Peanuts,  and "Satay Sauce"

(*Hat tip to the April 9, 2018 Chef's Tasting Menu at Per Se Restaurant in New York City, a Michelin 3-Star Restaurant)

Since I don't even know what Rouget is, I'm thinking I qualify as an "inexperienced home cook". So I thought, what the heck... I'll give it a go, and then I submitted an application. I'm posting about it here because I thought maybe YOU would like to submit an application too. Her note does say that "any help spreading the word about our search is greatly appreciated." So I thought I'd be super helpful and pass this on to my clever readers who might like this opportunity as well. So here you go...apply... what are you waiting for?...It will be fun!  

FYI  - this company casts for all kinds of cooking shows. If nothing else, this is a good website to watch if you're interested in actually getting "Chopped" (or not getting "Chopped").  Right now they are also casting for the Food Network show, "Beat Bobby Flay".  I feel compelled to submit my super awesome mac & cheese dish. There is no way Bobby could even dream of coming close to that!  Whadayathink? 

Update on the "Chopped" Situation

The ongoing cooking show in our home descended to a whole new level of low. First, if you haven't read about my life as a reality show "chef", you should probably wander on over to that post first. Then come on back and join us for the update.

So Thursday's dinner went horrifically wrong...on so many levels. The short version involves spoiled chicken breasts, moldy French bread, and one "chef" who forgot to buy pasta. This is perplexing since I shop every Monday for exactly what I need each week. How could my chicken and bread have gone bad so quickly?  Anyway...my dinner became an offering of a lovely tequila-lime cream sauce and Caesar salad. Now, I could have just re-named it "tequila-lime soup" and called it a day. I mean I am trying to get kicked off the show, am I not? Instead I asked Army Guy to pick up Chinese food and made a mental note to buy what I needed so we could enjoy our cream sauce with chicken and pasta the next day. WINNER of a plan .

Army Guy set the take-out containers on the table and then the "show" began.

Photo by Noahs Knight on Unsplash

Daniel:  "Chef Mom, what have you prepared for us tonight?"

Me: "Chef, tonight, instead of preparing dinner, I have instructed your father to procure dinner from our favorite Asian inspired establishment. Daddy, will you please present what you have selected."

Army Guy:  "Tonight we have a medley of Chinese dishes..."

Daniel cut Army Guy off, "I'm sorry, I was talking to Chef Mom, it's not your turn."

Me: "Chef tonight we have Lo Mein Noodles with shrimp in addition to Mongolian Beef and Orange Chicken."

Me (thinking) He HAS to kick me off tonight...I didn't do anything. This is my out.

Daniel: "Though this dinner is quite delicious, you really didn't do anything worthy of the title of MasterChef."

Me: (thinking) YES! Here it comes, so long KP duty.

And then...I made the rooky mistake of thinking out loud. "Oh look...my fortune cookie doesn't have a fortune inside...sad!"

Matthew: "You have just selected the mystery cookie, which means...tonight is a non-elimination round".

Yep...I had my out, and I found a way to mess it up.  I saw my exit and was ready to skip right through that door singing "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah" all the way to freedom-from-the-kitchen bliss. Then I opened my idiot mouth and gave my family a reason to keep me chained to the stove for the rest of my life. Indeed I am an idiot sandwich!

via GIPHY

Clearly I should have shut my mouth and just served the dang tequila-lime soup. For real!

I Just Can't Get "Chopped"!

Photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash

Cooking competition shows are quite popular in our home. The boys love Chopped, MasterChef, and The Great British Baking Show. The Netflix original, "Nailed It", was also a huge hit! We highly recommend this one if you want to full on laugh out loud.

Anyway, the boys have learned a few things from these shows, the least of which is how to prepare actual food. Rather, they have learned how to properly critique food…my food, to be exact. So now I live (and cook) in this crazy reality where I am in a competition every dang night. It doesn't matter what I serve, the boys give me their best Gordon Ramsey treatment over the dish. 

Dinner at our house on any given night

Me:  "Family, today I have prepared for you a delightful casserole of layered pasta and bolognese with mozzarella, parmesan and ricotta cheeses. On the side we have a toasted Parisian bread which has been lightly buttered and sprinkled with garlic and herbs."

Matthew: Takes a heaping fork-full of my food, bringing it to his face for a super close inspection. He sniffs, stares at me over the fork, and takes a bite, being careful not to let his lips actually touch the fork. He glares right through me, guarding his expression so his face gives no clue of his reaction. "Interesting". 

Daniel: Suggests that the dish is good but could use a tad more salt. 

Andrew: Comments on how the bread has really overshadowed the dish.  "Your lasagna should be the star here...not the bread." 

Gleefully I think, this is IT! Tonight I will FINALLY be cut from this nightmare! No more cooking for me... WHOOOP!  

Army Guy: Looks straight at me and delivers the verdict.  "You did enough to make it through to the next episode." Hanging my head in defeat, I receive the "sentence" like some sorry defendant on trial for murder. Secretly I plot my next meal, which I will prepare with less "gusto" and more "half-ass-ery". Yes, I think, they will chop me for sure tomorrow. I plotted my defeat with enthusiasm.

The next night was my perfect opportunity to finally be chopped. I didn't get home until 6:30 and decided I didn’t really have time to make chicken tacos after all...so I called, “free-for-all...come and get it! Everyone choose whatever leftover you want." Daniel and I had Monday's pork chops while Matthew selected just mashed potatoes and Army Guy made a bowl of ramen noodles. Certainly I will get chopped tonight. There is NO WAY Gordon Ramsey would allow me to continue after an offering of reheated food from Monday... for the love of muffins!

Internally I am super excited because I know there is no way they can find an excuse to keep me this time. Certainly tonight is my final night in the kitchen... I HAVE DONE IT!  With a stoic expression, Daniel delivers the decision, "You will...... NOT.... be leaving us tonight." He looks at the empty space next to me and says "I'm sorry Invisible Jimmy, you have been chopped!"

"SERIOUSLY! I REHEATED LEFTOVERS!" I exclaimed, "Why does Invisible Jimmy get to leave the show?" Without skipping a beat, Daniel announces, “Tonight's secret theme was leftovers!"

I am beginning to think this whole show is rigged!

The Art of the Polite Smack-down

When your eleven-year-old son is playing some sort of "Minecraft-something-or-other" on your iPad while you are binge-watching The Crown, the child will most certainly pick up a few choice phrases.  He will witness the "Queen Mother" quite effectively shut down some underling with this simple suggestion: "Do sit down".  Of course the "Queen" just gets straight to the point with, "Do shut up". Clearly our British friends have perfected the polite smack-down. You might think these phrases went right over your son’s head… you would be wrong.

Imagine my delight later in the week when I overhead, "Do shut up, Andrew!" from the game room. I couldn't even be mad. If it's polite enough for the queen, it's clearly polite enough for my boys. This wonderful new method of suggesting that one should be quiet has morphed into other equally mannerly statements such as, "Do kiss my butt", and "Do go away"...etc. Of course the proper accent is included...because it's just required.

Recently this graciousness has taken on more of a formal invitation-ish format; because what is more pleasant than receiving an invitation?  "I'd like to invite you to shut up". See how lovely that is?

This invitation often comes with highly elaborate and, quite imaginary, "packaging". For example, "I'm sending you an invitation on fancy stationary. The envelope has your name written in elegant gold calligraphy and is stuffed with silver and white heart shaped confetti. The invitation itself is embossed... it's a simple two-word message...”  Translation:  "I love you, but shut up!"  One time Army Guy sent me an invitation presented by buglers on white horses. It was a royal fanfare worthy of the queen herself.  Translation: “I acknowledge your princess-ness, but please shut up, your Royal Highness”. 

I, in turn, sent an invitation to Army Guy, which was delivered by a marching band and four dozen flag girls. The flags were made of a glittery red fabric and had large silver and rhinestone letters. Each flag had one single, sparkly letter: S, H, U…you get the idea. The other forty-two flags were for punctuation purposes only: exclamation points, to be precise. Translation: "S H U T - U P !!!!!!!!!!!" 

One time Matthew had his message delivered via the space shuttle and seven astronauts participating in a massive ticker-tape parade. But the very best and most creative invitation came from the daughter of my dear friend, Kelly, who invited her dad to a "Shush Party" where she was serving Shush Cake and Mu-shush-room Pizza.  Squeeeee!!!  Genius wit from an eight-year-old.

Here’s a special Thank-you to the Brits, who have inspired creative etiquette and social graces in our home. Bravo my Brit friends. I do believe the Queen herself would approve. Do feel free to like and share. :)

Throw Down on the Four Square Court

We have a serious issue in this household. It seems that three out of three children in this family hold the prestigious title of "King of the Four Square Court" at school. Of course this is problematic. They can't all be king, especially since they have parents who were both the King/Queen of the Four Square Court in their day. (Incidentally, their mother was also "Queen of Tetherball". Yes, this is a lifelong title and yes, I do get to claim it at my age.) #greatnessisageless

There was only one way to settle the issue...purchase a red rubber ball and host a family Four Square Tournament. GAME ON!

It was a lively game full of surprises and "new rules". Army Guy and I were stunned at some of the rules and moves these younger whipper-snappers have created. I'm just gonna come out and say it... these little brats have bastardized the game. No...this is not an exaggeration. They have forever altered Four Square to resemble something more like Dodgeball on a tiny four square court. #kidsthesedays

Hey... here's an example of what I'm talk'n ‘bout here:

1) CHERRY BOMBING:  This is when an opponent grabs the ball and slams it into your square. No...this isn’t a "spike" like in volleyball. It’s more of a holding and slamming kind of move. "I'm sorry, but you can't HOLD THE BALL in Four Square", I proclaimed. Army Guy and I deemed this an illegal move.

2) TINY TIMMY: When an opponent holds the ball and runs over to your square and drops it just over the line from a height of about 6 inches. I rolled my eyes and promptly yelled "ILLEGAL MOVE!" #fortheloveofmuffins  

3) QUADRUPLE TAPS: When a player is allowed to touch the ball up to four times while it is in play in his square. This allows the player to juggle and maneuver the ball. He can also set up a spike, like in volleyball, only he sets and slams the ball himself. "ILLEGAL MOVE!" #areyoukiddingmewiththis?

This kind of made-up-crap went on and on and on. After about fifteen minutes of this nonsense, Army Guy called "Retro Rules". We took the game back to the 70's y'all... and we meant business. We schooled these youngins on the proper way to play and we set them straight. #priorities #raisingthemright

I am pleased to announce that Army Guy is still King of the Court…and I am Queen. Of course three boys would argue that it's because we played by "old dude rules". Whatever helps you sleep, son. #oldschoolrocks 

For those interested, The official Four Square Rules are listed here. Incidently, Cherry Bombing is generally frowned upon by all Wikipedia commenters. #thatsright #vindicatedbywiki 

The Brief Career of Four Tween Pastry Chefs

"Mom, we want to make cookies!" 

That's all it took...I WAS IN!

"YES!" I exclaimed, "You may use my entire kitchen and everything I own if you will produce for me a warm and delicious cookie while I sit here on my bottom watching the Olympics." 

(translation: NOT watching you!) It was a fantastic idea and I was IN with my entire being! 

Why were there four tween chefs and not three? Because the very charming and delightful neighbor boy was visiting our home (sarcasm font NOT engaged...this child is very delightful). Bonus:  this child knows how to make cookies, he loves to make cookies, and was very eager to share his skill with my boys. When I say this news was heaven for me, I am not at all exaggerating! My thought process: you mean I can actually sit here...doing nothing...and my children will produce yummy cookies for ME?

The picture in my head looked a little something like this...except in my head the cookies were all glow-y and I'm pretty sure there was angelic background music.

Photo by Wendy Rueter on Unsplash

Who wouldn't love that?

So I set them up for success. I pulled out every ingredient and tool this process would require, then I preheated the oven and gave them a little direction. "Cream the butter, eggs, sugars, and vanilla together and then add the dry ingredients. Oh...and also, those are half-sticks of butter. The recipe calls for two so I have given you four". And with that, I left them to their task with the knowledge that I had achieved success as a mother. I had given them the skills and tools in which to please me with the chocolatey-chippy-goodness of life. All I had to do was wait 20 minutes...

Insert giant "record scratch" sound here

When I say something went horrifically wrong, that would be the understatement of the universe. So many things went so super wrong. I was left standing in a completely destroyed kitchen, with a serious burn smell wafting through the air and an are-you-kidding-me-right-now? look on my face. But the burned product really wasn't the worst of it. After some serious sleuth-like investigating I discovered the baseline issues.

It seems that the Tollhouse Chocolate Chip bag (on which the recipe was printed) was torn at the corner. This destroyed some critical information regarding the amount of flour to use. It seems that the "2" part of the "2 1/4 cups flour" was missing. So our mixture had a scant 1/4 cup of flour. But when I found nine butter wrappers on the counter I realized just how much of a disaster this had become. NINE BUTTER WRAPPERS! So when I said "these are half cubes, you need to double that" nobody heard the "Here are the four cubes you need". And then I guess somebody either miscounted or threw in an extra cube for the butter-tsar...or something. 

So we had a mixture that consisted of nine half-sticks of butter and a quarter cup of flour in addition to the other ingredients. This created the most unfortunate sheet of greesy, burned sugar-butter-tar the world will ever see. I am saddened to report that I failed at getting a picture of the blackened butter mess…mostly because I was just in shock.

So not only did this mama not get her cookie fix, but I am now out of butter and my new cookie sheet is in the trash. Sigh… I'm a failure at momming!

Please send cookies. I’m not above begging. For real!

Andrew's Cafe v. Matthew

All good things eventually run into a bit of a snag. One day things are just humming along and the next day you find yourself in court. Such was the case for Chef Andrew when he was forced to sue a customer for skipping out on the bill.

For those of you who are new to the House of Crazy, you can catch up on Andrew's Cafe here. Chef Andrew has some sketchy business practices, chief among them is his policy of sending an invitation to "be my guest" at his cafe and then springing a bill on an unsuspecting customer. It's both underhanded and genius.

So recently Andrew opened for lunch. His first client was his brother, Matthew. Andrew offered to prepare a very lovely grilled cheese sandwhich with a side of humus and chips. The chef served his brother and then, once the customer was fat and happy, he presented the bill. This created quite a scene in the cafe. Quickly the spat became a full-on fight and the two ended up in my bedroom in front of their dad, pleading their case in his "courtroom". (Army Guy loves to hear grievances in his court. He enjoys any opportunity to be "Judge Wapner".)

Andrew presented his case:  "Matthew.... (Army Guy Cut him off and instructed him to use the term "The Defendant").  Andrew continued with a roll of his eyes..."The DEFENDANT won’t pay me after I made his lunch."

Army Guy:  Turning to Matthew.  "Is this true?" Did you skip out on the bill?"

Matthew:  "No... I tried to pay him but he can't break a $5".

Me:  Bahahahahahaha

Andrew: "I don't have change and Matt...The Defendant... won’t pay me. He has to pay".

Army Guy to Andrew: "As a business man are you prepared to take payment in cash form?"

Andrew: "Yes, but he has to give me dollars. His bill is one dollar and I only have three dollars to give him for change"

Army Guy to Matthew:  "If you include a tip, could you pay the bill and accept three dollars in change?"

Matthew:  "He is SUING ME! I am NOT going to tip him 100%!"

Me (thinking) He knows tipping $1 on a $1 tab is 100%. He's paying attention in school!  PROUD!!!

Army Guy: "Andrew did you explore ways in which you could create change? For instance, did you seek assistance from your other brother, your mom or myself?"

Andrew: "No, but..."

Army Guy: "Don't you think a business man should open his store prepared to accept payment in cash form, which includes making change?"

Andrew "Yes, but..."

Army Guy:  I find in favor of the defendant. Since the plaintiff is unable to make change for the defendant, the plaintiff will give the defendant three days in which to come up with a way to pay this bill."

Matthew:  "Mom can you break a $5"

Me:  

via GIPHY

I am happy to report that the District Court of Army Guy settled the dispute and Chef Andrew received payment. Though his pop-up café had mixed reviews, I think the legal battle is what caused him to close up shop.  It was just too much for the young chef.  Sadly, I have not enjoyed breakfast-in-bed prepared by my little guy since his legal problems began.

In other news...Matthew did NOT tip and was last seen grilling his own dang cheese sammich.