My housemate is a trained chef. I am SUPER good at making cereal. Anyway, over the weekend, she was off to the north to play and frolic and generally be away from me and the kids because fuck it, she needs a break. My son M was bored, and I am hardly the Martha Stewart of, like, anything. I’m more of a Warren Buffet kinda gal, if we’re being honest.
Me: My dude?
M: Can we make chococrispies like I make with auntie?
When faced with attempts at domesticity (if that wasn’t a word before, it is now), I tend to freeze up like a deer in headlights. But fuck it; I’ll give it a swing!
This was a recipe EVEN I should be able to handle. Fuck it! I’m a mom! I have a pinterest page! I’ve seen recipes online! I HAVE SO GOT THIS!
I got a bag of rice crispies, and pulled out some chocolate from the press. How hard can it be, amiright?! I threw the chocolate into a bowl.
“We want it melted, right?” I say to M, who, at 4 years old, is pretty much the brains behind this whole operation. “Yeah, ok, half a chocolate bar in the microwave for……1 minute!”
1 minute is, surprisingly, a long time. Also, chocolate, when it burns in your microwave because you’re an idiot and not minding it, makes this horrible black, crunchy beast of a thing that STINKS up your kitchen. When I opened the microwave, and I’m not even exaggerating here, a PLUME of white smoke erupted into the kitchen. Naturally, I shut the door to the microwave as quickly as I could.
“What’s that, mommy??”
“Uhhhh…. bit of smoke, buddy. It’s mommy, cooking.”
“It looks like a DRAGON is in there!”
*Nervous laugh* “Ha! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah! Isn’t it fun? Mama’s just gonna open the patio doors, mkay?”
The chococrispies had an EXTRA step of picking out the black crunchy bits, but we DID get to mix in the rice crispies, and I must say, I’m not a bad chef!!
So long as the recipe is, like, two steps… and I’m “cooking” in a well-ventilated area.