“Mum, the food smells really nice!” Pesh quipped, nodding a little too vigorously. I had decided to help Viviane prepare the stew while she bathed the girls since I got home early. I left her to whip up the ugali and placed the ready dish on the counter.
“Kumbe you can cook meat!” Pesh didn’t let it go. My initially broad and proud smile fell in an instant. “Of course I can!” I answered, pouting my mouth in defence.
I was tempted to add that I taught Vivian all the cooking she knows matter of factly, but knew better of it. She was smiling at the far end of the kitchen, an open plan that allows no secrets in both the kitchen and living area. She was thoroughly enjoying the discussion.
The rare sight
“You make pancakes, samosas, cakes…” Raine my toddler caught up. She added sweets and fries to the embarrassingly unhealthy list. Viviane couldn’t hold her laughter. She burst out, earning a teasing scornful look from me.
“But mum cooks when I’m away on leave or off,” she defended struggling to keep a serious face and made me feel worse for needing it.
“What will you eat the meat with?” I asked as I moved back to the kitchen and grabbed an apron, nose in the air, my ego floating high. Six eyes looked up in awe making me wonder how scarce my cooking had been, surely.
A moment to behold
Spaghetti! Everyone, Viviane included shouted. I shook my head at such an easy choice of meal and got down to prepare it. It was quick and ready in a short while. Hubby walked in just when I put the fire off and stood at the door, shocked.
“Are we expecting a guest?” His mouth ran fast. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Everyone ate silently with a few scattered giggles from the girls.
Justin then broke the silence, “You should do this more often.” I began conjuring up something mean to say when his next statement softened me. “No one beats your cooking for sure!”