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You know how I’ve been saying that the boys have been good and I haven’t heard a peep out of them? Well, that was all a facade!

Late the day before the men slowly came together and complained to me and my sister. It was a long battle of words between us, but the long and short of it was this: the complaint was not so much about iftaar (but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to!) but about suhur (the meal before sunrise).

The young whipper snappers were saying how they need to eat a lot because they are growing boys, then they all said how they prefer meat/chicken over everything so of course they will mostly eat that one dish (sound familiar? It’s like last Ramadan all over again!)

So, we naturally replied by saying that they had such ravenous appetites they should cook extra food for themselves. To which they replied,

“But mum dominates the kitchen so we never get the chance to cook”

Now what a lousy excuse that was! Mum is not in the kitchen for the whole day, which mean they have plenty of opportunities to enter and cook their own meal. But, there’s something else that’s stopping them: they can’t cook!

One can make a few things here and there but slapping a few things together, whilst the others can just about fry an egg make their own toast.

The women in my house don’t want to slave away in the kitchen to produce multiple dishes and have them disappear within a day. In a house full of hungry carnivores it’s tough to cook and clean up.

Today mum and dad were invited for iftaar at a relatives house, that left me, my sister and the men alone in the house. There was this static atmosphere at the table as we served the food. The men made it seem like they were o.k with everything (when their stomachs probably shrunk at the sight of the small but average portions) and we broke our fast in awkward silence, to say the least.

It looks like the tigers were only sleeping, they never left!

@?%£&!

 I was happy with my food. Don’t know about them.

Till tomorrow…if I live through the nightmares tonight!

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