Well, almost everyone knows...

My little man fancies himself quite a chef, especially now that he's learned to grill cheese sandwiches all by himself. This has also doubled his recipe collection; previously, his stable contained exactly one good recipe for butternut squash, which he pilfered from my friend Kelley and now takes sole credit for creating.

But he's also got a healthy self-confidence, which I love. It's hilarious to listen to him take credit for amazing skills he's never quite had the opportunity to prove. Come to think of it, he's never disproved them either, so who knows, maybe he is as wonderful a football player, chef, and artist in real life as he is in his head.

Last night we were watching Hell's Kitchen, which is kind of a dumbed-down Top Chef. The cooks are just that--cooks, not chefs--and while they do have a famous chef judging them, he spends more time yelling at them than actually encouraging or praising them. Mark and I like to hear him scream "Donkey!" at everyone in his angry English accent.

Anyway, they were serving up breakfast to paramedics. The meal consisted of scrambled eggs, French toast, bacon, sausage and fruit. When a cook messed up the eggs, Mark shook his head and sighed.

"Come on!" he yelled at the T.V. He held his hands in the air and snorted, "Everyone knows how to make eggs and French toast!"

This was news to me.

"Do you know how to scramble eggs?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Can you make French toast?" I asked.

He admitted that no, he could not do that either. I proposed that perhaps we should not judge the TV cooks so harshly, then. He smiled and nodded.

"Do you want me to teach you how to cook eggs?" I inquired, but for the third time, he shook his head no.

"I don't like eggs," he answered. "Or French toast."

Which was fine by me. Because I was in no position to judge those cooks either, unless they jacked up my famous breakfast speciality--peanut butter toast.