"Mommy, can we use the robot vacuum cleaner, then?"
Munchkin looked at me as if he regretted joining this fierce war in the first place because now, he had to use even more effort to clean up the battlefield.
"You can use it for the corners that are hard to reach but not now."
I smiled as I turned to leave the kitchen and started looking for clean kitchenware that I could use.
I looked back and saw the father and son sitting on the couch with their heads hung low. Nobody was willing to move.
I pretended to be heartless and said, "If you don't finish cleaning, no meatballs for the
both of you."
As soon as I said those words, the two of them came back to their senses and sprang up from the couch.
Just as I finished making the meatballs, both of them gathered around me.
To be honest, none of us know how to make meatballs. Munchkin was still young, so of course, he never learned how to.
I learned a long time ago, but I had forgotten how to.
We did not know how to do it, let alone Theo. If he had made meatballs before, he would not have bought so much groceries.
I was the best of a bad bunch, so although my craft was rusty, I was qualified enough to guide the other two.
I recalled the main points and taught them how to shape the meatballs.
At first, they barely got the hang of it, but the meatballs were starting to take shape as they kept trying.
At nine o’clock, our family finally had a nice warm dinner.
It did not matter if the meatballs had turned out to be a disaster.
I just knew that toward the end, Munchkin was dozing off while eating his meatballs, and Theo and I were capturing the moment. In the end, his little face plopped onto the plate, so we picked him up and wiped his face clean before putting him to bed.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Scrambling to Be the Father of His Ex-Wife's Kid