See, I grew up in a busy household. For a number of years, it was only ever just my wonderful sister and I and then, my Uncle came to live with us. He’s a child compared to his siblings, (only 10 years my senior), but we don’t care about him. Okay, we do, but that’s not the point of this story-thing. Growing up, Mum was always busy. She worked 2 jobs on top of my Dad having owned his own company. There would be nights where Mum, bless her always managed to make something brilliant for dinner. Meatloaf (and man, she makes a mean meatloaf) and scalloped potatoes. Or another night, we’d be in the kitchen making pizza. You get the idea. But then, there were those nights when Mum only had a short bit before she had to go to bed before work and we got chicken, French fries, and mac & cheese. As a kid, I didn’t mind. It’s only the easiest, most kid friendly meal ever. Throughout the years, those nights of her not being able to cook led to us doing dinner with my Gran (and boy, does my Grandmother make AMAZING food)and the nights of chicken and fries lessened. So, when Mum called me from work, telling me that she’d have to work late, and could I kindly make sure my sisters and I got dinner, I replied sure. She went on to explain how yes, there was a box of mac & cheese in the cupboard, and oh, don’t forget the chicken & fries. Huh, to step into Mum’s shoes, to end up making dinner (something I’m obviously no stranger to) for the girls & I, it brought back nostalgia… Of memories of cold snowy days spent warming up after sledding with hot chocolate & the Rugrats’ video game for PlayStation; of coming home from inter-elemental school activities and Mum having made my sister and I an early dinner; of the days when boys had cooties and having your ears pierced was the most rad thing you can do (besides own a Gameboy Colour & have a stack of pokèmon cards).