Tale of the Short-Order cook

We used to get along. That is, before I married her son. . .

I had just had a baby and we were visiting her home. She was feeding my little one and we were rationally discussing the possibility of the baby becoming a picky eater.

I told her that I would not be a short-order cook and cook him whatever he wanted. Kids won't starve themselves. If they are hungry, they will eat. Therefore, I would put out something nutritious and hoped he ate it. If not, then he doesn't eat. No big deal.

She told me that she would cook whatever her kids wanted. Brownies, mac and cheese, grilled cheese, whatever they wanted. (Healthy, no?) And I explained to her that her son (whom I love and married) is still like that. He will only eat cheeseburgers, french fries, fried food in general. I explained that I'm not a short-order cook.

She glared at me. And said, she does it for her husband.

I told her that my husband was a grown man. And if he doesn't like what I put in front of him, then he can cook something himself.

I glared at her.