I found my chef in the most unexpected way. It was an ordinary day and I was trying to decide what to make for dinner. I don't mind cooking, but I HATE deciding what to make. All. The. Time. In my frustration, I uttered that I wished I could just pay someone to come up with our weekly menu and cook our meals.
"Would you be willing to pay me?" Mr. B eagerly chimed in. "I'd do it for $1 a day."
$7 a week. Deal. Without hesitation I hired him on the spot.
"Now you know Mr. B, this means that you'll have to plan all our meals and help me shop for what we'll need," I explained. "And do the cooking too." (with me overseeing him in the kitchen of course)
"Yes, Mom. I want to be a chef when I grow up. Plus I'll be making LOTS of money."
And so it started. Our family had a personal chef (that wasn't me). And it was WONDERFUL.
Knowing my son, I figured he'd last a few days. Maybe a week tops. But he surprised me. He diligently planned and cooked for one whole month.
And then, out of the blue, it ended.
"Mom, I don't think I want to do this anymore. It's too much work."
Oh my dear son I thought. If you only knew.
My chef has been gone now for several months. But he did make a brief appearance tonight. Long enough to help me make a coffee cake and apple crisp (Both were his choices. He is a growing boy he reminded me. And he's always hungry.)
And it was wonderful.