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I’m trying to learn how to cook. One thing that I’m clumsy at is learning how to slice and dice properly. Jacob would try to help out. He’s absolutely hopeless when it comes to cooking, but he does know how to wield a knife. But of course it doesn’t end there. Since I read from a recipe book, he finds another use of that voice of his: Reading me the instructions. It’s very kid-friendly at first, but this is Jacob we’re talking about. Soon, he’s reading my butter recipes in a buttery sinful voice. He’ll even make dirty jokes about the phallic-shaped vegetables I have. He’d take out one particularly thick cucumber, put it in front of his crotch, and go, “Pretty close to the real thing, don’t you think so, love?”

Thing is, I don’t allow any sweaty romps while I’m working, so Jacob, the little shit, would try so hard to lose my focus. He’s always had near successes, but I always manage to finish before yanking him towards the dining table (or the floor… or even against the fridge) to have my very dirty way with him. Except that one time I left the stove on and burned our entire dinner. Jacob was very remorseful and offered to cook for us. I would never trust him with the full control of the kitchen so I ended up directing him what to do. While he was wearing my cute Hello Kitty apron… and nothing else.

I blame this. I regret nothing.

~ Signora Paola