Clementine Cooks Dinner

"What shall we have for dinner tonight?", asked Mum, not looking up from her fingernails, onto which she was busy painting tiny penguins. She was going to her annual book club dinner, hosted by the mayor, who was an avid reader. It was due to be a very boozy event, which was why Mum always tended to eat dinner beforehand, also. She'd painted her nails ivory with orange tips, like the covers of Penguin Classics. The penguins were proving a little difficult. They looked more like amoeba.

"I dunno," replied Dad, not looking up from his fingernails, onto which he was busy painting a shaky layer of black varnish. He was going to his friend Jimmy Wenderson's heavy metal themed 40th birthday party. He wasn't doing a much better job than his wife, even taking into consideration the fact that her nail art was a little more ambitious. One supposes that no-one could really fault him for this. The blame lies mostly with gender conditioning. By painting his fingernails in the first place, one could say that Dad was in fact doing his very best not to succumb to it.

"I'll make dinner," volunteered Clementine, not looking up from her PVA sodden, gold-sprayed pasta, which she was busy sticking onto a sheet of fuchsia coloured card.

"That's nice, sweetheart," said her mother.
"That's a lovely rabbit you're making," said her father, glancing up from his blotchy black fingernails.
"It's not a rabbit," said Clementine. "It's a dinosaur. A tryy-Sarah-tops!"
"It's a lovely triceratops," said her mother.

"What's for dinner then," asked Dad.
"Well, whatever it is," said Mum, "I certainly won't be making it. I'll ruin my nails! I've spent hours on these!"
"Well, you're not the only one with wet nails," said Dad, grinning. Mum looked over and laughed at him, and he laughed at her too. "Nice amoeba," he said.
"They're not amoeba! They're penguins!"

"I said, I'll make dinner!" piped up Clementine.

Mum and Dad stopped what they were doing (trying to slap each other without smudging their nails) and turned to look at their daughter. She had PVA on her cheek and green glitter all over her hair, which was clementine coloured, naturally.

"You'll make dinner?"
"What are you going to make for dinner, my little tangerine?"
"A surprise," replied Clementine.
Mum and Dad looked suspiciously at her gluey, glittery, triceratops shaped pasta painting. Then they looked at their nails and shrugged.
"Ok. But it will have to be a cold dinner, because you're not old enough to use the cooker."
"Yes yes yes," said Clementine. "You have to get out of the kitchen though."

So Mum and Dad went and sat in the living room, fighting over the hair dryer to dry their nails with. Meanwhile, Clementine got busy in the kitchen. They could hear her bashing and banging. They were slightly worried. Then Mum noticed that Dad was wearing fishnet sleeves and started to laugh at him again. Dad blew the hair dryer at her.

"It's ready!" called Clementine, ten minutes later.

Mum and Dad went through to the kitchen, tentatively.
Laid on the table were three plates, and on those three plates was an assortment of food in lurid colours. Orange fish fingers. Yellow mashed potatoes. Bright green peas. Mum and Dad sat down at their places, wondering how Clementine had cooked the meal in front of them without having used the oven.

"Bon appa teeeee!" said Clementine, smiling broadly.
"Bon appetit!" said Mum and Dad.

Clementine didn't start. She was watching her parents, waiting to see their reaction.
Dad looked at Mum. Mum looked at Dad.
Dad took his fork and impaled a pea. He brought it up to his lips. He looked at Mum again. He looked at Clementine. He froze.

And then he put the pea into his mouth.

Immediately, his face creased up in disgust. Mum and Clementine's faces creased up with laughter.
"It's play-doh!" squealed Clementine, "You ate play-doh!"

Mum laughed and laughed and then Dad laughed too. Clementine laughed so hard she slid off her chair under the table, where she poked Dad's big clown feet and laughed even more.

By that point, Mum and Dad's nails were dry, and they made peanut butter and banana sandwiches for everyone, and then the babysitter arrived, and they went to their book club dinner and heavy-metal-fortieth-birthday-party.

Clementine fed the play-doh fish fingers to the pasta dinosaur.