Secret Family Recipe

Apparently, one of Younger’s friends has left our house after his overnight stays raving about my poppy seed muffins to his mother.

Which is gratifying. An ego boost, even.

Except…

Apparently, his mom offered my husband a jar of homemade blackberry jam in exchange for the recipe for my wonderfully delicious, incomparable, rave worthy muffins.

My husband accepted the jam, then told her…

“Betty Crocker.”

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Low Expectations

The other day, I finished my very first afghan — blue and orange for Younger, the only one suitably impressed when I showed off my first sample squares. But, as the afghan grew longer, Elder decided he might appreciate this new talent, too.

Except he apparently assumed I was a lot more talented than one simple, misshapen afghan might have suggested.

“I know,” he told me. “You can do the background with maroon and the school mascot on white in the middle.”

Shoulders falling, eyes widening, I stared at him. “I can’t do that, Elder. I can’t crochet a design, especially without instructions. Even with instructions.”

“But why not?” he questioned.

“Because I’m just learning.”

“I designed a pattern on my first weaving project.”

“Weaving and crocheting are different.”

“Not that much. I could help you write up the instructions.”

“Look, I’ll be happy if I can just keep this one from resembling a trapezoid. Do you want an afghan or not?”

So, shaking his head at my unwillingness to stretch my comfort zone, he picked his two colors. Blue and gray. No mascots. No school name. Not even team colors.

He just lowered his expectations to “rectangle.”

And I’m not even sure I can meet that one.

What happened to the days when I was a hero just because I could untangle shoelaces and explain the mysteries of cats and spit?