Hi there. I’m trying to be lighthearted but I feel awful. It’s Book Week here in AU and I’ve been running competitions, and today dressed as Princess Fiona in claggy green face paint. Exhausted came home made chicken for my son.
Half-way through he says, I can’t eat this it’s undercooked. It may have been slightly less than perfectly cooked. But it wasn’t raw. He said it in a grumpy, annoyed tone.
I’ve also had exactly this argument with my ex who’s his Dad. My son is on the spectrum.
Anyway, I suddenly just felt really fed up. How many times have I cooked chicken for people who’ve complained about it? They don’t offer to help. They look at the food I’ve made and complain. I told him to F off and make his own chicken. I can’t wait until he turns 18 and I can just be vegetarian.