My dashing husband is in a dashing place doing dashing things for a week. So I’m doing the single mom thing. Let me just say this: I don’t know how actual single parents do it. For a week it is totally manageable and even sort of fun – life is a bit simpler, I ratchet down my expectations, I decline work-related evening invitations – but there’s no one to pick up eggs on their way home, no one with whom to have an adult chat with while I make dinner, no one who cares quite so much about Ernie’s switch to Spanish doing his homework.
And yes, you heard me right. Kindergartners now have homework. It involves a lot of drawing, but they have homework.
So while the boy wrote “tigre” and “taza” in his notebook, I silently cooked up turnip soup. The result of my efforts meant we each got to chose which turnip soup we wanted to eat:
We both went for the one with the turnips’ own greens stirred into the soup. It was pretty darn tasty.
I had the creamy version for breakfast. Yes, breakfast. I am a big fan of savory breakfasts (don’t get me going on Scandinvaian breakfast buffets! the cheeses! the cured meats!) and love to eat dinner leftovers for breakfast. Soup included, or, rather, especially.
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