My wife stayed awake for two nights, preparing 38 dishes for 75 relatives at our granddaughter’s birthday celebration. Her hands were sore, but she still arranged every plate with care. My daughter-in-law looked at the food and said, “This is too simple. Let’s take everyone to a restaurant instead.” I didn’t argue. I quietly took one photo and made a single decision. By the next morning, they were calling nonstop and asking me to undo it…
The list arrived at our kitchen table less than twenty-four hours before the party.
My daughter-in-law, Tiffany, unfolded one sheet of paper and slid it toward my wife as casually as if she were handing over a grocery receipt.
“Mom, I just need you to handle the food.”
Gloria adjusted her reading glasses and studied the page.
Thirty-eight dishes.
Roast chicken with no garlic. Beef stew with extra onions. Gluten-free cornbread. Dairy-free macaroni and cheese. Vegan stuffed peppers. Homemade croissants. Three flavors of macarons. Red velvet cake. Peach cobbler. Fresh lemonade.
Nearly every item had a separate instruction written beside it.
Gloria looked up.
“How many guests?”
“Seventy-five,” Tiffany said. “It’s Kayla’s eighteenth birthday. You run a restaurant. This shouldn’t be that difficult.”
My son, Kevin, stood behind his wife with his phone in his hand. He glanced at the list, then immediately returned his attention to the screen.
I waited for him to speak.
He didn’t.
Gloria folded the paper carefully.
