Every now and again (this was our first time) we let the kids decide on the weekend dinner menu.

This was our first weekend in ages where we would have a Saturday night free and a Sunday morning to sleep past 6am. But mostly, the weather forecast was predicting warmer than usual temps and the sun was expected to shine. Worlds aligned and foody decisions were made without even the least bit of planning.

We told the girls they could come up with a dinner menu for our family for Saturday night and provided it was voted on unanimously (yes Chloe, you can include your name) and everyone was happy, we would cook them the foods of their dreams (the Gods must be crazy) and there were no limits or questions asked.

With just a few limits and a lot of questions–we began.

The kids wasted no time getting to work on their list. I expected something involving beef tenderloin or Chloe’s favourite—ribs.

Here is the list I received—Hot Dogs, Kraft Dinner, French Fries.

Huh.

Sidebar notes:

• Hot dog buns must be white—not whole wheat
• Kraft Dinner has to be KRAFT DINNER and not Mom’s homemade Mac ‘n cheese where she hides quinoa and stuff. Two boxes and they have to be made using the instructions on the box—exactly. You have to salt the boiling water (why would I add salt to something that was already so very salty?) Use butter (not happening) and both packets of cheese (how did they know I would try to get away with just one?)

We agreed to their terms and looked forward to this interesting experiment for the family.

Before you say things like, “Oh come on, you must eat hot dogs and Kraft Dinner on occasion.” We really don’t and it’s not because we’re better than anyone who does. We’re worse. We spend roughly 7 or 8 nights per week eating pasta or Subway sandwiches out of thermoses and paper bags (not always in that order) in our mini-van while driving from one activity to the next like wannabe healthy hillbillies, so on rare nights when 3-5 of our family members are available to sit down at the same table between the hours of 5 and 7pm, I try to ram as much broccoli and quinoa down their gullets as I can before they wake from hypnosis.

The hardest part about this entire exercise, surprisingly, was going to the grocery store to buy everything on the list.

I felt instantly judged by people in the store and had to walk down the Kraft Dinner aisle twice waiting for the right moment when no one was looking to knock the two boxes into the cart and hide them at the bottom under a bag of carrots.

After strategically placing the white buns vertically at the back of the cart as though I could pretend, “Well I didn’t see those there!” at the check-out,  I set to work covering the questionable contents with less embarrassing items like Jumbo Overnight Maxi Pads, Hemorrhoid Creams and Lice medication.

I asked if during the cooking process I could just make one pot of veggies or anything green.

Greg said, “Liz, let it go.”

And so I did.

Probably the best line to come out of our “dinner” after hiding the boxes of KD at the bottom of our recycling bins (what would the waste management people think of me?) was Chloe who smiled an exhausted, happy smile and said, “Mom, can we have this again at Christmas?”