I debated for a couple of minutes. Should I try to cook dinner, or should I let my brother do it? Last time I had checked, he was fairly hopeless in the kitchen, but I've been gone for a few months... maybe he's experienced some recent growth in the kitchen expertise department. I flip-flopped for a couple of minutes, weighing the dangers involved on either side. After all, it hasn't really been my day. Deciding that it was easier just to do it myself (albeit carefully) than sit and supervise him, I set to work.
I put the pot on the stove and turned it on. I opened the package of noodles, snapped them all in half, and placed them in a bowl. Then I sat down at the kitchen table, very conscientiously not watching the heating pot. A couple of minutes later, I become aware of my brother, picking up handfuls of the dry noodles.
me: "What are you doing?"
lil' bro, looking at the fistfuls of pasta: "Trying to see how much there is to eat."
me: "It expands when you cook it, you know."
lil' bro, relief spreading across his face: "Oh, really. That's good."
I think I'll keep cooking while I wait for his culinary light-bulb to turn on...
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