Gobble on this

I hate to cook. HATE it. I enjoy watching others cook. I enjoy eating said cooked food. I'll even go so far as to watch the occasional cooking show on tv. When I make food myself, even if and when it comes out alright, I am far too pissed that I cooked, and now disgusted by what ingredients actually went into the meal (Ever had a caper? BLAH.What the hell are they anyway?), that I am no longer hungry.

That said, Dylan's preschool thought it would be a great idea to have a Thanksgiving Day dinner for the kids. Woo hoo! There's one day I don't have to cook!

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I got the memo in Dylan's cubby.

They ask each parent to make a dish which is distinctive to the child's heritage. This dish must be able to serve all 19 children, and each of their two guests.

So, let me see, that would be roughly calculated out to be....19kids + (2*19)parents/40 loaves of bread= enough Irish/Ukrainian peanut butter and grape jelly for EVERYONE!

The other 3 glaring atrocities of this fabulous idea are (in no specific order):

1- This will take place mere days before Thanksgiving (aka-more cooking and unfortunately for him-Jordan's birthday) Like nobody has anything better to do than cook for 57 people.

2- We are asked to bring in a recipe card with the cooking instructions of our "special dishes" for the preschool cookbook that we may later buy.... I'm sorry, buy?!

3- Oh, yeah, we are supposed to have our children participate with the cooking, explaining our personal heritage, sharing old family stories, and be able to describe to the class what the monstrosity that you just cooked is, what it contains, and any allergic reactions to look for or animals harmed in the making.

Didn't they get MY memo? No? Well, then, let me just get it for ya...hang on a sec.....hmmm, I know I put it here somewhere......just here a second ago....where could I have.......

OH! I found it! Here it is!

(ahem): Bite me.