LAUGHTER AT THE DINNER TABLE

It could and did get messy

Pepper Miller <peppermiller3011@gmail.com>

Sun, Aug 24, 3:00 PM (2 days ago)

“It Could, and Did, Get MESSY!”

At twelve years old, he ruled the roost, A latch-key kid with chef-like boost. While Mom and Dad were off at work, He stirred with pride—not one to shirk.

The beans were soaking, calm and still, A ham-hock waited for the thrill. He drained the pot, refreshed the brew, Three hours plus a half? He knew.

The cornbread mix was next in line, Cast iron pan, bacon brine. Two spoonfuls of grease—no shame, no fear, Then came the green… oh dear, oh dear.

A St. Paddy’s nod, just drops were planned, But half the bottle slipped from hand. The batter glowed like alien goo, But hey—it’s tasteless, so it’ll do.

He sliced an onion, thick and wide, A tomato, heritage pride. Green beans danced in bacon’s kiss, A southern spread, a home-cooked bliss.

The table set with Mama’s grace, Each fork and napkin in its place. He stood there proud, a kitchen knight, Awaiting praise that felt just right.

They walked in tired, coats askew, He beamed and said, “Vegetarian stew!” The beans, the veg—divine, they said, Until the cornbread made them dread.

Mama shrieked, her eyes went wide, Daddy blinked and stepped aside. A slice of green, like swampy clay, Had crashed their calm St. Paddy’s Day.

But Mama, peace in every bone, Declared, “A feast to bless the stone!” She smiled and chewed, though lips went tight, While Daddy muttered, “It’s… alright.”

It could’ve gone off like a bomb, But love and laughter kept it calm. A messy meal, a heartfelt try, A boy who reached for stars too high.

Those were the days, the good, the bold, Of bacon grease and beans not cold. Of green mistakes and prideful flair— Of messy love, beyond compare.