Ann’s mother was special when it came to food. She could scan a printed page, retrieve a container from the cupboard, and *poof* add to the mixing bowl. Later, the family would eat freshly-baked casserole or chocolate-crusted cake.
And that is why Ann thought she might be magic, too. Surely, by the same means, Ann could create with a pinch of this or dash of that.
After Ann’s first attempt, only her father would taste it.
“Ah. Mashed potatoes?” he asked.
Ann nodded, trying not to feel sick as he stirred her mix of potato, milk, and runny eggs.
Based on the author’s actual experience, and
Stirred together for the Carrot Ranch Literary Community.
Chel Owens 
Tasty.
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😛 It wasn’t.
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I’ll eat my words then.
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They taste better. Believe me.
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Nothing like a father’s love–and we’re so grateful for it!
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My father is a saint! 🙂
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❤
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The apple pie doesn’t always come from the same branch! Some have superpowers in the kitchen, and some have great dads who try to encourage the effort.
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And, I’ve come a long way since then! 🙂
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Even if we don’t start out with the touch, experience and perseverance pay off!
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I think you and I went to the same un-cooking school. 🙂
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😀 Thank goodness for the odd frozen meal now and then!
-though, I’ve gotten a lot better given twenty years of practice. 🙂
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I’m getting better at frozen meals! 🙂
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😀 Love it!
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LOL!
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🙂 My first brownies were bricks… as I’d forgotten all about them.
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I’m sure I’ve burned a pan of brownies a few times in my life!
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