We were rushing this morning, trying to cram as many errands as possible into a short amount of time, when I spotted something. We were at the store that I hate most on the planet because we were trying to cram as many errands in a short amount of time. The store equaled one stop instead of  three. I spotted it right away as soon as I turned down the aisle. There gleaming on the shelf was a box of Kraft Spaghetti dinner. I was instantly transported to my childhood where Dorthy Hamill hair with polyester shirts and bell bottom jeans rocked. 

I promptly dropped a box in my basket where Liam quickly piped up, "really mom!". Leave me alone child! Cannot you see, I need a moment to savior the past. There were two types of boxed dinners back then, Chef Boyardee that came in a fat red box with the sauce pre-made in a can and Kraft Spaghetti dinner were one also needed a can of tomato paste to complete the meal. Each dinner allowed me an unique experience. The Chef Boyardee was only eaten on Saturday nights with my oldest sister in front of the TV while the rest of our family toiled away at my father's auction. Oh how I remember slurping up noodles and getting sauce on my nose while laughing along as Carol Burnett tried so hard not to laugh at some antic that Tim Conway was pulling. The other box, the green one was eaten only with my dad. We always had it the 2nd night when we went out into the mountains backpacking. Very rarely, less then once in a blue moon, at home when my mom and siblings were out for the night and it was only my dad and I present.  Oh how I remember the tangy sauce much spicier sauce that came that came with that dinner. It was always served with white bread and butter to make the meal complete (I wonder where my big hips come from). 

As the brothers got ready for their camping trip, I told M&M, she would be preparing dinner tonight. Levi wanted to know how cruel I could be making a 5 year old make all of dinner. M&M was excited as could be. We quickly dropped off the boys off for their trip, and we rushed home. M&M dug out her step stool.  I walked her through step by step on how to make the dinner from the green box. Her eyes were enormous as she dumped the pasta into the boil water and the gush of steam rose. She was a little dubious that a packet of dry mix, some tomato paste and lots of water would make anything edible let alone spaghetti sauce. She danced in delight when I showed her the little packet of Parmesan cheese. I laughed with her remembering how I too delighted in the tiny package of cheese. We sat down together at the table to dine on our feast. I asked M&M if she would like to say grace tonight, and my sweet baby girl asked if we first could say a prayers for her Grandma in heaven. 

I expected a lot out of the green box. I wanted to be transported back to a time where life was simpler. I wanted to remember a place that all that was expected of me was to be a child. Instead I was given the gift of now, laughing in the kitchen with my beautiful daughter and sharing a meal with just her that she proudly made. I had no idea this morning when I was in the store that I hate what a wonderful gift I would receive. Thank you my sweet girl.