Crappy Boy is a food critic. But I don’t mean that in a negative way. I mean it in a career way.
He likes to try new foods and then tell us his opinion. He reviews them. He even has a rating system with one to five stars. (The rating system has been a great way to encourage Crappy Baby to taste new foods when he is being reluctant. Which is often at this age. How many stars would you give it, Crappy Baby?)
Anyway, Crappy Boy can be rather poetic when he describes a food.
This was his review of our soup the other night…
We are having chicken noodle soup. From a new recipe. Freshly baked bread too, still warm from the oven.
I ask Crappy Boy what he thinks of the soup. He tells me:
That sounds bad. I think my restaurant is about to get shut down by the county.
So I ask:
And he replies:
He likes it? After that description?
He takes another bite.
Then finishes with:
So… five stars?
(He gave it four and a half.)
I never did find out what he meant, he couldn’t really articulate it. He hasn’t been to an actual funeral (at an age he could remember at least) so I think he could be referring to the gathering at the house afterward. There is always lots of food. Maybe there was a soup? Maybe. No idea.
He ate two bowls of that soup. Crappy Baby too.
I still don’t wanna make it again.