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There’s nothing to eat, grandpa. That’s just too dang bad…

There’s nothing to eat, grandpa. That’s just too dang bad.

My children are teenagers. The older one - 16 - is the age I was when my mother said “I’ve raised you, good luck.” I ask them EVERY WEEK before they come back from their dad’s house weeks “what can I make this week that you will eat?” They never respond. They’re both in sports, and I don’t want to eat out every evening, so every Sunday, I cook all the meals for the week.

Then all week long, I hear, “there’s nothing to eat here. Why can’t you go get me McDs/The Lord’s Chicken/Taco Hecc/etc.?” You spoiled rotten butt heads; at your age, I was cooking for my siblings meals (the only way I was allowed to eat what was served) if I wanted to eat and if I wasn’t cooking, I was scrounging up money to maybe get a dollar menu item. (It’s my own fault they’re spoiled, I’m aware. I’m a far less permissive parent than I used to be, trust me.)

One part of me is like “woo, glad my kids aren’t like me wondering where my next meal might come from” and part of me is like “how in the blazes dare you?”

It’s mildly infuriating. 🤣
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