Eggplant Parm

I have this new deal. Right before dinner when the table is getting set, I like to loudly proclaim that I am going to eat all my food. This has no relation whatsoever as to what happens after we sit down to dinner. I just like saying it. Mom says, "You keep saying these words. I don't think it means what you think it means," in this funny accent. She's so weird.

So apparently this dinner got assembled after I was in bed the night before. There's a pattern here that is developing that involves cutting me out of the food assembly process and I don't like it one bit.

I mean, who even sampled this cheese before it was spread on my dinner? Not me. How can we trust that it's real cheese.

The girl ate some of hers.

Wait, what's that you're asking me? There's no picture of me eating this? That's right... there's no picture of it. That's because you can't take a picture of something that didn't happen. I didn't eat it. I didn't like it. (I know I didn't taste it, but I could tell by looking at it that I didn't like it).



So folks, this one was a dud. But if you have a Daddy that will ask for seconds like mine did, you can find the recipe here.