Today, both Pen and Ginger told me what a good cook I am. It happens quite often, actually. They are always telling me I should open a restaurant or have a Food Network cooking show, absolutely certain that I will become famous should I do so.
It hasn't always been that way, though. Today I was reminded of a time when Pen was about 4 years old and Ginger was probably close to 2 or so. At that point in Pen's life, everything I made was gross. Things she had previously adored eating landed on her black list.
One day, when my Tae Bo workout tape ended but we had not yet shut off the TV, Pen and I got sucked into watching Julia Child on PBS. This became a common occurrence, and Pen became convinced that Julia was a culinary genius (quite true, actually).
A few weeks after Pen's Julia obsession began, she asked me as I served dinner, "Is this a Julia Child recipe?" Stupidly, I said, "No." Pen refused to eat the meal. I am very uncomfortable with lying, but am usually not stupid more than once, so the next meal when Pen asked me if it was a Julia Child recipe I said, "Why, yes, it is! Doesn't it look marvelous?" Pen ate every bite, exclaiming as she ate that Julia's food was the best.
For quite a while after that, every time Pen started refusing to eat something I would tell her that it was Julia's recipe and she'd eat it. Do I feel bad about lying? Sort of. Okay, not really. In this case, the ends justified the means. It didn't hurt anyone. The only person it might have hurt is Julia when she found out that I was passing off some of my rather unspectacular cooking as hers. All I have to say about that is, "Thanks, Julia! You saved my bacon!"