An unexpected bout of trouble

In a rare culinary-inspired moment, I decided to make dinner. I used Kelley's fab recipe (the unkosher version) to bake a chicken pot pie.

I thought Mark might enjoy a home cooked meal, but once again I was wrong. He actually slumped down in his chair when he heard the menu. I'm pretending his response was to a non-traditional dinner (coming out of the oven instead of out of a take-out bag) and not my cooking.

But nothing inspires me more than a challenge (I will cook, and you will like it!), so away to the oven I went.

The pot pie came out really good, although I miscalculated the vegetables-to-other-food ratio for a 10-year-old-boy. Their ratio is officially "less is more," with "none" being the best. So I often sneak veggies in when I can. But it's such a fine line -- you can grate up carrots and zucchini and mix them easily into meat loaf. But I went a little veggie crazy with the pot pie, and Mark balked.

"I want MEAT!" he complained, so I reminded the meal was called chicken pot pie. Then I relented, and gave him more meat.

But it was still slow going. He quickly downed the chicken and puff pastry, then pushed the veggies around on his plate. I cajoled, I threatened, and when those didn't work, I finally bribed him.

"Finish your veg," I told him, "And I'll give you a little cup of ice cream."

That did the trick. He didn't exactly dig into them, but he pushed them around a little slower.

I dished out the ice cream and sat it in front of him. "You can have it if you finish dinner before it melts," I told him.

He stalled a bit longer, and when I finished my ice cream, I jokingly reached for his.

"Look what I found!" I laughed.

But Mark didn't laugh with me. Instead, he squinted at me, put his hand over mine, and said in low, serious voice, "You don't touch a man's ice cream."

For a minute, I thought I was in a John Wayne movie, and the sheriff was threatening horse rustlers. I was about to laugh out loud when I saw he was quite serious. I backed off.

"I didn't know," I answered, after a long silence. "My apologies."

And with that, the serious "man" turned back into my goofy little boy. "Did I eat enough?" he asked eagerly. "Can I have my ice cream now?"

"You can," I answered, keeping my hands far, far away from his dessert.

And now I know that Cookies n' Cream is no laughing matter. At least not to the tiny new sheriff in town.