Last week I made chicken and noodles. An admittedly average attempt.
The next morning, Ismael came home from work, zoned out in front of some sort of news shoe and munched away on a plate of leftovers.
I noticed, though, that he was picking a lot of bones out of his food.
Bones? In chicken and noodles? It wasn’t good..but it wasn’t THAT BAD.
“What are you eating? Did you…..get that…..out of the crockpot???”
The crockpot that I cooked the whole chicken in on Friday afternoon while I was gone. The crockpot I was too lazy to clean on Friday night and still sat there on Saturday morning with a CHICKEN CARCASS IN IT.
“Yeah, why?”
Oh holy crap. I’m not Martha Stewart, admittedly, but I’ve never served a plate of chicken carcass before.
Until now.
….
Oh how I wish I had a husband who would eat anything… uh, at least I think I do!
Oh yuck! I swear, guys and toddlers will eat anything PROVIDED you don’t WANT them to eat it!