"Mama, can I make some soup?" my eight-year-old son asked.
"Sure," I said. "What kind do you want to make?"
"You'll see. But I'll need to use the microwave."
"That's fine, Bubba," I said. "You know what to do, right?"
He nodded. "And I might make some desert, too."
I left the kid to his own devices and went off to do some cleaning. Twenty minutes later, Chef Bubba was done. "It's ready!" he said.
I went to the kitchen and inspected his creation. A bowl full of water with salad greens and carrots sat on the table. "Salad soup?" I asked.
He grinned. "Doesn't it look good?"
"Do you want to see the desert?"
"Okay," I said. "Where is it?"
He went to the freezer and opened it. He pulled out an old sippy cup with some kind of half-frozen concoction in it and handed it to me.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Homemade ice cream - made with milk and ice!"
(I guess the boy knows how much I like ice cream.)
There you go - nothing but the finest at Chef Bubba's Restaurant! Now who would like to help me eat it?