Why I don't like cooking

I am only here because I promised.

I made "Simple Chicken Florentine with Spaghetti" for dinner.

Offspring1: I am going out to dinner with Andrea and Elena. See ya.
Offspring2: What is that green stuff? It looks nasty. [Pushes spinach to edge of plate.], T
Me: Take one bite, just one bite, you will be surprised.
Offspring2: [Grimacing like there is hot molten lava in his mouth.] I am not surprised it is disgusting.
Offspring3: I don't care for angel hair pasta.
Offspring2: Why are you being so difficult? Why can't you just eat what's put in front of you?
Offspring3: Uncrease your forehead when you talk to me. You hate the stuff. You just said it.
Husband1 (i could have others): This is g-r-e-a-t!
Offspring2: What is wrong with you?
Offspring3: What is wrong with you?
Offspring2: You are so mean.
Offspring3: You just called me a loser.
Offspring2: What's your problem?

Two plates move to floor for the good dogs (Wayne stays outside). Notation made in cookbook. "Tried 5/28/09" Drawing: two thumbs down.

I have discovered Tiny Art Director, and we have much in common. She is four years old. I admire her demanding demeanor. I, too, make unreasonable requests and then stamp my feet when they are not met immediately and in the manner in which I prefer. Tiny Art Director, though, gets much better results.