This morning's email started out like this:
Each week we'll send you a note to share with the dad-to-be in your life. Pass it on!
You're being the best partner you know how to be, and one of the things you're doing to earn that position is to sign up for dinner duty now and then. Right?
I had to smile at this one as I read it in the cab on my way to work in downtown Chicago today. I am one of the luckiest women alive. Not only does Ryan do most of the cooking in our family, but he excels at it. I was certainly self-sufficient in the kitchen before I started dating him. However, I am definitely a cook book kind of cook, not a great improviser. He can reproduce meals we've had at nice restaurants and even improve on the originals. His technique with kitchen tools of all kinds is far superior to mine, and I think he's a little frustrated that I still haven't retained the knife basics that he's tried to teach me over the years.
This might be why the other day when I offered to make dinner, he said: "Are you kidding? It will take you twice as long. Go watch TV."
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