Good Things

The other night, Jack was working overnight at the hospital.  The kids and I were eating sandwiches from QFC outside on the deck in the backyard.  Given my lack of enthusiasm for cooking dinner lately, we have been having a fair amount of angel hair with homemade red sauce.  I open a can of crushed tomatoes, onions, seasoning and cook for a little bit.  It is not much more effort that opening a jar of store bought sauce, minus the high salt content.

The kids are tired of eating spaghetti and red sauce.  I asked them what they would like to eat instead.

"We like noodles, but how about a different sauce?"

Like what?

"Pesto.  P-E-S-T-O.  Pesssstttooooo!"

For ten minutes, they riffed and rapped out pesto songs for ten minutes, creating little mini-advertisements for pesto.  It was lots of fun.  

Jack called me from work.  Instead of complaining about who they dragged getting into bed or picked at each other, I told him this story.  How often do I complain about my kids or other things?  Thought I'd share something sweet for a change.