A few months back, someone asked C (our five year old) who cooked the best Macaroni and Cheese. That was a bit of a silly question. His Nana’s Macaroni and Cheese is legendary. It is – far and away – his favorite food. He talks about it to whoever will listen. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dreamed about it.

Since then, the boys have had an ongoing discussion regarding who is the “best cooker”. The opening salvo to this discussion was when C announced at dinner “Nana’s the best cooker!”

His mom, of course, wasn’t very happy about this. She immediately responded with “she certainly cooks the best Macaroni and Cheese.”

To which he replied, “yeah, and the best pie.”

Momma replied with some things that she made the best. He responded with more of Nana’s “best”. If you don’t mind, I’ll spare myself the trouble I’d get in for actually sharing those lists publicly. Suffice it to say, the two did not come to any sort of agreement.

I chimed in, of course, that I made the best eggs – but neither paid me much attention.

Over the past few months, the kids have tried to rank the various cookers. The general consensus is “Nana, Momma, Grampa, Daddy” – though my lobbying sometimes gets me in front of Grampa. It’s worth mentioning, I suppose, that to the best of my knowledge Grampa has never cooked any food for the kids. He leaves that up to Nana and their Momma. Smart man.

This morning, Momma had made eggs for breakfast.  As we were eating, C announced “Momma’s the best cooker!”

Momma smiled around her eggs. Of course, I couldn’t let this pass. ”What about me? I think I’m the best cooker.”

The boys’ heads whipped around to face me. “Nah…” they said in unison. C continnued “You make good eggs, but that’s it.”

“And ice cream! I make the best ice cream!”

“No…Momma makes the best pizza too. Actually, Nana and Momma make the best pizza! They make it together.”

Momma shook her head in dismay. “That was a frozen pizza.”

“Well, I think I make the best desserts.” I said.

The boys conferred. “Nah, Momma makes the best brownies,” C said. His little brother nodded agreement. “But,” C continued. “You do better than Grampa.”

Well, I guess that’s all I can hope for.