Betty Crocker does not live here

The other day, while sitting around the table eating dinner, Molly looked up from her plate. She turned toward me and declared, "Mommy, this is the best dinner you've ever made!" Now, for most moms, this would probably be a moment of great pride. This comment would puff them up (rightfully so), and they could strut around knowing that they pleased their 3-year-old's picky taste pallet.

Me? I burst out laughing.

I wasn't laughing at Molly. She was being completely sincere and earnest. And, I did appreciate that she was actually eating her dinner. I laughed because the meal she was raving about, the meal that was the height of my culinary expertise, the meal that she asked for seconds of? That meal? Yeah, that meal was a pre-made rotisserie chicken from Target.

Yup, pretty much exactly like the one above. I can't even claim that I prepared the thing. It grosses me out to cut the meat off the bone, so I made Cory do it. And, I didn't even make any of the vegetables or bread that went with the meal. Cory did that, too. So, pretty much all I did was pick it up off the shelf at Target, put it in my cart, pay with my credit card and bring it home. But, according to Molly, that was the best cooking I had ever done.