Sometimes, though, even instant convenience foods prove too much for a harried mom of three small and demanding children. I'd gotten the rest of the meal done when Coby (our newborn, in case you're out of the loop) decided he MUST. BE. FED. NOOOOOOOW. Luckily, Curtis had just come home from work, so I handed the duty over to him. Easy, huh? Make the mashed potatoes. Simple, yes? Read the directions on the box. Piece of cake, right? It's not like I asked him to fry the chicken.
But Curtis - poor, ramen-noodle-making, non-direction-reading Curtis - had a bit of trouble. Which is why the first words out of Colin's mouth when presented with his plate were, "Why do my mashed potatoes look like a sponge?"
It's true. They were actually spongy. And stick-to-the-fork stiff.
Both Colin and Cameron spent the entire meal so fascinated by the moldable properties of the potatoes that they neglected to eat anything. Seriously - it was as if we had plopped a mound of Play-Doh onto their plates and were all, "Here kids, don't worry about eating, just play!" After a while, we gave up and let them leave the table with their dinners largely untouched.
(It was mostly because we wanted to play with the potatoes ourselves.)
I made this breathtaking sculpture of modern art:
... and then sacrificed it in the name of showing everyone how, um, sturdy these potatoes really were:
That's a kiss for you, Honey. I know you meant well. But next time ... we'll just do without the potatoes.