Last night, after I came home from work, my son came up to me and said, "Mama, we need to boil some potatoes."
I looked at the kid. "Boil potatoes? Why?"
"I have a school project that's due tomorrow, and I have to make Russian potato soup."
I couldn't imagine why in the world he'd have to make such a thing. "Okay. You need to back up. What kind of school project involves Russian potato soup?"
"I have to teach the class how to do something, and I wanted to teach them how to make that."
"Why couldn't you teach them how to write a program for video games? You know how to do that."
He frowned. "Because I'm Russian, and Russian potato soup is good."
"So, Bubba, do you know how to make Russian potato soup?"
He nodded. "It's all in my head."
I thought I'd test that theory. "What are the ingredients?"
The boy shrugged. Just as I thought. He had no idea of how to make Russian potato soup.
I sighed and pulled out the ingredients, which he was very lucky that I happened to have. At ten o'clock at night, it might have been a little tough to find a grocery store that was open.
"Okay, Bubba. Start peeling."
He took the peeler and attempted to do the job. He had no clue how to peel a potato. So I showed him. I ended up peeling the potatoes, because he claimed that the cast on his arm made it difficult. This may or may not be true, but I wasn't going to argue about it, because I just wanted to get it done.
I showed him how to make the soup. When it was done, I asked him how he was going to get it to school and serve it.
He shrugged. "You'll figure it out."
Of course. Mamas always figure it out!