Kids Love It...?

So we had this dinner party on Saturday night. No big thing- just Jeff and I, Matt and Kandace, and Nic (our designated 5th wheel). Chicken, rice, salad... Attempted corn on the cob... And then some s'mores in our fun new fire pit. Of course, we had a little wine with dinner, and then some peach champagne with dessert, and then more wine ('cos it was there), and then things got a little bit crazy. We took the party indoors and spent a good amount of time taking turns wearing Jeff's (size 12) Heely's in the kitchen.







It was pretty awesome. But the champagne ran out, and rather than take that as a sign to stop- we dragged ourselves the half-block 'round the corner to pick up more. In the absence of peach, it was strawberry champagne this time, and a bottle of spumante for good measure. Beer for the boys, two bottles of sake, and we stumbled back home.



Now, this subsequent batch of alcohol seemed to last all of ten minutes- so out we went again. I do not recollect what we purchased on the second trip to the store- but I remember the clerk smiling (and probably laughing) quite a bit. Needless to say, I didn't last much longer after this. I remember sitting on the couch saying something to Nic and Kandace (probably semi-incoherent) about Pharrell and Chester French, and then I woke up in the bathtub naked surrounded by barfed-up graham crackers with my head resting on my wadded-up, soaking wet jeans. Yeah. It was gross. The sweetness that is my boyfriend then pulled me out, poured me into jammies and bed, DID A LOAD OF VOMIT LAUNDRY, continued to entertain our guests for a number of hours, and even cleaned up the party. At some point Nic walked himself home (not too far), and Matt and Kandace stayed the night. Now, granted I was unconscious and therefore I hesitate to take much credit- but you KNOW you've had a decent dinner party when it trails into a breakfast the following day. At said breakfast- Matt ordered a miscellaneous chili concoction and it looked so good, that I found it difficult to think of anything else (which is the hallmark of my general food-craving behavior). So yesterday I bought all the necessary ingredients in a wild attempt at making my very own chili from scratch. You can't really screw up chili, right? I mean, you just keep adding things to it until you get it right. And you'd assume that with the amount of soup I consume, I'd be a natural at this chili thing. Turns out, I totally am. My chili is phenomenal. Ever so sliiiiiightly soup-ish, but what else would you expect from me? The PERFECT consistency for the other constant in my life... rice. Today, while enjoying my umpteenth bowl of it, I started thinking about the chili my mom used to make when I was little, and specifically how I could have come to love or even TRY chili after the taste bud scarring trauma that was her "Kids Love It Chili". I'm not joking. That's honestly what my mother called it. "Kids Love It Chili" was the foulest, most unloved chili known to man, or errr... child. Furthermore, it should be noted, that I am an only child. So who the fuck were these "kids"? And how could they "love" it when I could barely STOMACH it?! And then suddenly today, I realized the genius of it.

When my 6 year old asked...
"Mama, what's for dinner?"
and I responded enthusiastically with,
"You know, that chili mommy made yesterday!"
to which she inquired,
"Ugggghhh! Mamaaaaa... Can't we just have reguhluh chili- instead of the one you made?"
Then it occurred to me...
"But it's special Kids Love It Chili!!!"
And this changed everything...
"OHHHH!!! I WANT THAT!"
"Well, okaaay..."

DAYUM!

Tommorrow night? "Kids Love It Squash".