Morning Conversation

Scoob decided he didn't want what I was cooking for breakfast—a mushroom and red bell pepper scramble burrito thing (nom! nom!)—and wanted some of last night's left over Tortilla Soup, instead. So while I was cooking my scramble, I put the soup on to heat for him. By the time he came downstairs I had finished breakfast and was washing up the dishes, then I headed to the office to start work.

A few minutes later I hear Scoob calling me from the kitchen:

Scoob: Do you think it's done yet?
Me: How would I know? I'm not even in the kitchen. *sigh* I dunno. What are you cooking?
Scoob: Pasta.
Me: What about the soup?
Scoob: I want pasta in the soup.
Me: Well, how long has it been in?
Scoob: A few minutes.
Me: And how long does it take to cook?
Scoob: A few minutes more.
Me: What does the box say?
Scoob: *grumble* (as he goes into the pantry to get the box he already put away)

I am happy to report it has only taken 10 years for him to understand that I am always right and I know everything. But I'm not omnipotent! How am I supposed to know what you're cooking or whether it's done when I'm not even in the room?

And who puts pasta in tortilla soup, anyhow? Poor guy, he doesn't seem to be firing on all cylinders this morning.