I couldn't let something, this close to a bonafide miracle, pass by without sharing it with my dear readers.
I was homeschooling the kids at the little table (a second hand jewel that I tucked into the corner of the kitchen), when Hubs shuffled in and asked what we had to eat. I gave him a look like, "Are you effing serious?" and went back to what I was doing. I suppose that look is what set him on a venture to prove he doesn't need me or my damned ol' cooking. LOL
First, he banged around way more than necessary and located a frying pan. Then he went to the fridge and located some Polish sausage and eggs. He didn't take out any butter. Strange, as he insists that I soft scramble his eggs in butter. I was too busy staring in wonderment to point that out to him.
He turned on the burner, slammed the pan down and poured in some cooking oil. Way too much cooking oil. He tossed in the sausages and then set about cracking eggs. The burner was on high and it wasn't long before I heard a medley of "POP! Ouch! DAMN! POP! POP! #%^&$^#& c", coming from the direction of the stove. The pan was smoking and the sausage came out black. The kids were staring at him, as though he had three heads. That's understandable, as they have never seen him in the kitchen before [snort!].
Once he had the sausages out, he whipped the eggs with a fork and dumped them in the pan. Using that same fork, he began to stir quickly, still using high heat. "How the hell does someone scramble eggs in this pan and not burn themselves?!"
Silently, I reached around him and pulled out a spatula, from the holder on the counter and handed it to him. When he had completed his embryonic masterpiece and dumped it onto the plate, I noticed the eggs were as black as the sausage almost. He offered the kids some, but they both said they weren't hungry. Then he parked himself in front of the TV and ate it all.
I couldn't help but think of the flack he would have given me, had I tried to serve him a hot mess like that.