Is it me or is this the cruelest form of packaging? As if I don't have enough problems just COOKING the chicken! Now I have to pick, pick, pick at the corner openings of these stupid wrappers which never actually open anyways. I end up stabbing them with a steak knife and wrestling apart the vacuum seal after ten solid minutes of pulling, stretching, and yanking. Now I'm all sweaty, my arms are tired, and I don't even want to eat the chicken anymore.
I would've definitely called it quits if not for a little four-year-old flattery earlier today. During lunch, Lil' Miss looked up at me between bites to say, "Mom, you're a good cooker. You cook good peanut butter sandwiches!" At this point, I refuse to argue with myself about whether or not assembling a peanut butter and jelly sandwich qualifies as "cooking". It's a compliment, something I could really use right now, so I'm takin' it. And I think I'll add this to the growing list of reasons to love her. She is right, you know. I really do have a way with spreading peanut butter across a piece of bread.
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2 comments:
If I "make" you a diet cherry pepsi tomorrow will you "cooker" me a pb&j?
Don't forget to wash the chicken!!
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