Our son, Charlie, spent the evening cooking dinner with Elysha. He spends most of this time demanding his mother’s attention and hanging on her legs, so involving him in the cooking was a great way to keep him from getting underfoot.
He loved it.
They made chicken nuggets, breading them in Cornflakes.
It occurred to me that as much as he reminded me of his mother while cooking alongside her, I have made my own share of chicken nuggets, too.
Tens of thousands of them, at least, during my tenure at McDonald’s.
His chicken nuggets were probably admittedly more nutritious than any chicken nugget I ever made.
