Sunday, December 18, 2011

Children's Story

I taught my oldest stepdaughter* to make folded eggs a few weeks ago. She's 16, bright and usually pays attention- even while looking bored out of her mind. I told/showed her what to do, and she did it. Sounds like an easy story right?

Yeah well, not so much.

First of all, she's a teenager. So to her I'm mainly just an old guy that cooks, drives and doesn't understand her music.
It's not so much the music that I don't understand...
We've had our ups and downs over the last 11 years. Neither of us are necessarily warm and huggy types. Plus add in the fuzzy math of a Daddy's girl with a Dad who was random (in my eyes) even when we lived in the same state and my estranged daughter, who actually seemed closer when I was 20 hours away, and we both bring some baggage to the table. Not to mention the other 4 kids in the house.
Add melanin, subtract maid...
We have our good days and bad, like everyone else. And we make it. I have a lot of respect for her. She's come through most of the various tribulations of teendom with a fair bit of grace and humor. She helps out, mostly without eye rolling. She's realized how well she can do in school, and
she does it. And, at least 11% of the time, she's fairly pleasant to be around. Hey, she is a teenager. And a girl.
Pictured: Communication.
But, I told her what to do and she did it. Showed her how to do it, and she did it. Perhaps more importantly, she asked to make eggs again, a few days later, and she did the way I showed her. It really felt good to be able to share something that I like to do with her.
Our kitchen is not actually this big though.
Maybe we've got more in common that I used to think. 

Not to mention, when she made eggs before I showed her how, she didn't use any butter/margarine/oil. There was more egg stuck to the pan than there was on the plate. Teaching her the right way was the only viable economic option. The Incredible, Edible Egg people wanted her for high treason. The estate of a Mr. Humpty J. Dumpty were threatening to picket in front of our house. The Easter Bunny was giving us the side-eye. I had to do something to save us all.
They're always watching...
Oh yeah, plus all that other stuff too.

All said, she's a pretty good egg.

*I dislike the term "step-insert noun". Not because it connotes a lack of closeness and familiarity, but because you just never get to step on them as much as you might want to.


  1. The kids, myself and the angry eggs love you honey!

  2. I think I would step on my progeny sooner than some of the ones my husband left me in his will.

    She sounds wonderful.