Who's The Boss?

Tonight I feel particularly triumphant. I finally showed English Toffee who's boss. You see, English Toffee and I go back many Christmases. My mother-in-law makes it every year and it is always delicious. So each Christmas, I think, "Hey, I'm going to try to make English toffee for my friends and neighbors. How hard can it be?" Ha!

As you guessed, each year English Toffee kicks my butt. Anything and everything goes wrong. The butter separates out at the end and it's one big greasy mess. Or it's too soft. Or I burn it. And then I throw it away and feel mad that I spent so much time and all that butter just to dump it in my garbage.

But this year I really showed English Toffee who's the cook and who's the toffee. Michael will claim that he was the determining factor since he held the candy thermometer for me on my first batch. However, I think the secret might have been using an iron skillet (yes, Dad, the one you picked up at the thrift store for me) and adding two tablespoons of water to the recipe. So English Toffee, move over baby. You're not the boss anymore.

We must use the "boss" concept quite often around here. Even the kids have picked it up. I heard Emma telling Evan the other day, "You're not the boss of me."

Next we're always trying to employ new and creative ways to get Evan to eat his dinner. Most of the time Evan's food tells him there is a party in his tummy and please won't he open up so the food can join his friends at the party. Well, that one has been declining in its effectiveness. So lately, the new spin is this: Evan's food trash talks him and then we encourage him to show the food who's boss by chomping it to little bits. He really likes that one.