Chef Bubba

"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?" 

"Absolutely delectable."

"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?